


Love Bites

by yourhonor



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Costume Parties & Masquerades, DNF, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, Human/Vampire Relationship, Hunter GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sharing a Bed, Teasing, Vampire Clay | Dream, Vampire Hunters, Vampires, dream is a softie, dreamnotfound
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28864596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourhonor/pseuds/yourhonor
Summary: As a vampire, Dream had always looked forward to the day he would finally hunt down and taste human blood. But when a stubborn and secretive human named George subverts his expectations at a masquerade party, he starts to think that maybe he’s the prey.THIS STORY WAS CO-WRITTEN BY @Vanilluvcoffee ON WATTPAD! Check them out here! https://www.wattpad.com/user/VanilluvCoffeeAs always, if any content creators state they are uncomfortable with fan works like this, I'll take down this story. If you don't like, don't read :)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 75
Kudos: 743





	1. Invisible Stakes

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a longer project I'm excited about :] we'll try to update this regularly since a few chapters are already written! this story is being crossposted on wattpad by Vanilluvcoffee, the other author of this story !!
> 
> Warnings for chapter 1: blood, alcohol, mild homophobia, swearing, burn injury
> 
> enjoy :D

There were so many humans to choose from.

The night rolls in over Anderridge, bringing with it the pleasant absence of the sunlight. From the rooftop, Dream could see the mass of people in the town square blanketed in navy darkness, the only sounds in the heavy air was the fading melody from a gramophone, nightly chatter and distant rustling of leaves of the surrounding forest. 

He runs his tongue over his fangs, taking in the nearing scent of distant human blood. His fingers twitch with anticipation.

Dream stood crouching behind a chimney, the worn brick rough under his fingertips. Even from this far, he could smell it. The promise of human blood, something he had been waiting to pursue for his entire life. It was finally the night he would take it. The simple thought of sinking his teeth into any one of the mortals in the town below made his pulse flare and stomach twist eagerly.

A warm breeze flicks a blond strand over his right eye, and he haphazardly brushes it back. He takes an opportunity to glance down at his attire once more, and decides to button up his burgundy undershirt completely. His stolen vest and dress pants all were shades of brown and red with golden buttons, it would easily make him appear wealthy. Presentable, attractive. He’d have no problem luring someone, everything was perfect.

It was too bad he wouldn’t be able to show his face, people would be able to tell too quickly by his teeth what his intentions were at the town square party. But that’s why this party was just what he needed - a masquerade party. 

While the silly, lopsided smiley face on a plastic white circle looked ridiculous, it was the best he could manage. It was friendly looking enough for people to fall for it. He wouldn’t need too much time to fully convince someone to trust him, anyways. He’d practiced, over and over, predicting what they would say, how he would respond and get into their head, convincing them that he had their best interest in mind. By the time anyone would realize his plans, the blood will already be spilled.

Dream leans over the edge of the roof, thankful that he was too high up for anyone to see him. It was a good vantage point, especially for picking his prey.

So, which one did he want?

His eyes scan the area, searching for a gullible someone that would be vulnerable to his charm.

Most that came to the weekly night gathering were young adults, healthy and bodies rich with the best tasting blood, so he had heard. 

A dark haired boy walks into a group of what Dream presumed were his friends - too risky. Friends meant witnesses.

Dream turns his attention to a classily dressed blonde, her hair reached halfway down her back and draped over the sides of her neck - too difficult to bite. 

As a gathering of people part, one brunet behind them stands out to Dream in particular, seated at a bar by his lonesome. He’s dressed in a deep blue victorian coat. Short but fluffy hair, smooth pale skin. Promising. He seems to be contemplating what to order, drumming his delicate fingers on the bar table. 

Dream considers to continue looking, but his eyes remain on the brunet. He keeps looking, longer. His neck was exposed above his navy blue coat collar, vulnerable, he looked to have a smaller stature, easier to avoid struggle. It would be fast, easy. 

Not to mention, the guy happened to be kind of cute. Just a bonus.

Dream stands. He’d be the one. 

Dream clears his throat and approaches through the clumps of people, right hand in his coat pocket.

“Hey, baby.” Dream says, voice low and slightly raspy. The brunette whips around and faces him, expression confused and face delicately flushed. Now _that_ was a reaction. A simple black and white mask rests on the upper half of this man’s face outlining his eyes, which were a brilliant deep brown.

He leans an arm back onto the bar counter, probably due to how Dream practically towers over him like this. His gaze narrows when he sees the blank smile. 

“Um.. hello.” He says. Dream takes note of his accent. 

He wonders how his screams would sound.

Dream sits down on the leather-cushioned bar stool next to the human, crossing one leg over the other. 

“Don’t be timid darling, I don’t bite. What’re you having?” His hand gestures to the line of various drinks.

The guy was obviously suspicious. He eyed Dream skeptically. “Why does it concern you?” 

“Aww, come on,” Dream leans an elbow over the counter. “Humor me.”

He’s hesitant, but gives an answer. “I normally have sparkling champagne...but I don’t think I’ll be having any tonight.”

Dream challenges him by leaning closer. “The cheap stuff?” He scoffs. “Yeah, you’re not having that. Excuse me! I’ll have a glass of your Chateau Margaux. Top of the barrel.” 

The bartender nods, eyes lighting up at the pricey request. Dream returns his attention to the mortal stranger.

The response he gets is unexpectedly accusatory. “Okay, what are you getting at?”

Dream smiles with amusement under the mask, and innocently tilts his head down to look at his nails. “Nothing, am I not allowed to be generous?” 

The others’ eyes run up and down Dream’s figure critically. “I haven’t seen you around.”

“I’m new here.”

“No wonder, I definitely would have noticed you.”

Brown eyes bore into the expressionless face as the bartender sets an intricate wine glass between them with a click.

“Why’s that?”

Both hands land on the glass at the same time, larger hand over smaller. Dream notices how soft his skin feels under his hold.

The other furrows his brows. “You’re...noticeable.” Dream closes his fingers more tightly around the delicate hand coyly, but it seems to not affect the other’s demeanor. “I definitely would have known of you by now.”

They both pull on the glass, and the liquid inside sways as it halts between them. Dream rubs a finger over George’s knuckles.

“Do you want to know me? I thought the point of these parties was to be mysterious.”

“I’m not that big on rule following. What’s your name?” The human asks.

“Dream.” He says simply. “Not the most conventional name, I know.”

The man in question gives a pseudo-smile. “George.” 

“George.” Dream repeats, trying the name on his tongue.

George pulls the cup from Dream’s hand and takes a sip through a mischievous smile. 

_What a brat._

“Nice tie you got.” Dream tries.

“Thanks.” George accepts, and sets down the glass to look up. “Nice...hair.”

Dream runs a slow hand through the shallow bangs that fell over his mask’s edge. “Huh, that’s a sweet thing to say.”

George huffs. “Sweet isn’t the word I’d use.”

“Maybe.” Dream’s hand wanders to the hem of George’s coat to feel the fabric, and even dares to linger a thumb against George’s waist. “But I think it suits you.”

George’s breathing shallows for a moment, and he looks behind their barstools to spot a couple of onlookers. “You really shouldn’t do things like that.” His voice turns to a mutter as he pushes Dream’s hand gently away. “It’s not funny.”

As he is about to reply with another flirty line, Dream stops himself when he sees the twinge of genuine sorrow clouding the human’s eyes. 

That’s inconvenient. He needed to gain trust if this was going to work - he has to change course a bit.

“Sorry, I guess things like that aren’t taken to very well here.” He casually adjusts the top button of his burgundy undershirt. “But hey, at least you got some expensive wine out of it.” 

Thankfully, it earns a breathy chuckle.

“Guess I did. Even though you have no reasonable excuse for getting me this.”

“My _excuse_ is wanting to make new friends. The least you can do is give me a chance.”

George smiles quizzically. “Why me, though?”

“You’re…” _Biteable._ “You look interesting, unlike all these other idiots.”

“ _Inch_ resting, you say…” He smiles wider, dimples showing.

Dream chuckles, but genuinely this time. “ _Inch resting..._ your accent is funny.”

George rolls his eyes and takes another sip. His lips press together to suppress a smile.

They sit in silence for a moment, and simply listen to the orchestral symphony as another song fades to an end.

“Thanks for the wine.” George says eventually, filling the silence in the air.

“Of course.” Dream says.

The next song begins. Dream taps his foot nervously, following the beat of the music. He inhales deeply. _Time to move things along_.

“May I have this dance?” Dream asks formally, offering a hand to his human companion. 

George eyes the hand for an agonizingly long amount of time, but his charm seems to pay off when George says “I’m not a great dancer...but if you insist.” 

George takes Dream’s hand. It’s cold against his own, the size difference in their hands much more prevalent now that they’re pressed against one another. 

Dream pulls the shorter against him and slips a hand around his waist, against the small of his back. He intertwines their fingers and holds their arms out to the side, George placing his hand on Dream’s shoulder. George giggles nervously at the closeness. They begin to sway to the rhythm of the music.

The classical music is elegant, filling the night air from the mouth of an old nearby gramophone. It surrounds the odd pair in what feels like their own bubble. 

Dream notices their height difference, looking down at George. The brunette looks up, but once he notices Dream is actually looking at him behind the lopsided smile, he looks away bashfully. 

“You look beautiful, George.” He says quietly. The words catch them both a little off guard.

George is unsure what to say. His face reddens as his hand holds Dream’s hand tighter. “Thank you.. You also look nice..”

Dream lets slip a wheezy laugh. It’s highly contagious, George finds, since he laughs too. 

“You think so?” He tsks. “You don’t have to say that. Besides, you can’t even see me.” Dream says.

“I don’t have to...it feels right.” George says. It’s so quiet, Dream isn’t even sure he heard it correctly.

It’s silent for a moment before George speaks again. “Who are you?”

Dream moves a hand to hold George’s waist. “Does it matter?” 

The edges of George’s face are warmly lit by a nearby lantern as he looks up again. “ _I_ feel like it should.”

“And _I_ feel like you shouldn’t think about it too much. Just focus on me, alright?”

George rolls his eyes and scoffs, a charmed smile spreading on his lips. “You’re weird.” Dream chuckles in response. He’d give credit where it’s due- this guy was kind of entertaining.

George presses forward and rests his head on Dream’s chest. From the new position, Dream can see the back of his pale neck. He takes a deep breath, an attempt to control his desire to bite. 

They continue to sway tenderly. Eagerness makes Dream’s heart thump louder, his mind runs rampant with possibilities of how he would take George’s blood, how he could wipe the smugness off of his face in an instant, how good it would feel to tear into his skin.

_Not yet. Just wait._

A song with a deep cello chorus begins. George sighs and lazily moves his head to look into Dream’s eyes with a look so shockingly vulnerable that Dream could barely resist tackling him to the ground right then. 

“If you’re going to hurt me, just get it over with.” His voice dropped to a dreadfully quiet tone.

Dream’s breath hitches. _How did he-?_

“That’s always what happens,” he continues. “Whatever you want to do to me, just do it now. You don’t have to trick me for it.”

Dream is speechless. Did he know somehow? 

_Play it cool. You still have a chance._

“What? Why would I want to do that?”

“I’m serious.”

“And...so am I.” Dream moves a hand to cup George’s cheek, tenderly caressing it. George doesn’t lean away, but doesn’t lean into it either. “I don’t mean to scare you.” The tired expression on George’s face makes Dream’s blood run cold. He gulped, and attempted to maintain his demeanor. Fuck. “I’m sorry for anyone who has.”

Though clearly doubtful, George offers a weak smile. It makes Dream want to get away from this as fast as possible. Bad. Bad bad bad bad bad, this was _bad_. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“I don’t care anymore. I suppose if something bad happens I’ll either die or it’ll just be another reason to not go out anymore. I hoped coming to this party could be good for me to stop expecting the worst all the time.” His grim eyes consume Dream’s, piercing straight through the smiley facade. “I wonder if you’re here for good.”

And in the span of only a few seconds, Dream’s preparation falls completely useless. What is he supposed to say to that? The worst thing was - it was true. Dream _was_ going to take advantage of him, he was going to rip his life away from him with no chance for change or to see anything better in the world. Whatever had hurt him before, this would be a cherry on top. It would prove his paranoias of the horrible world to be completely accurate.

It wasn’t that he didn’t prepare for the humans to talk to him, he’d expected it. But _that..._ that wasn’t something he’d prepared for, something that cold and out of the blue. He really was ready to accept, and even looked forward to the prospect of a human not wanting to lose their life. But now...it bothered him. That never bothered him before when preparing for this. Why did it have to bother him, why now? Why did it have to bother him right when he was _this_ close?

It didn’t matter. This is his chance to get human blood.

And he isn’t going to blow it.

“I want to be good to you, George.” Their bodies sway closer together, forehead and mask nearly touching. “I promise, I’ll do everything I can.” The words feel disgusting as they leave his mouth, but he says them anyway. 

The feeling of dread growing in Dream’s chest is getting unbearable. 

_Just forget it. It’s not that hard. It’s just a human. It’ll be over soon._

“I like your color choice. Blue is a good color on you.” Dream attempts to lighten the mood.

George sighs. “Thanks.” He trails his hand from Dream’s shoulder to his chest. “I like your shirt. Brown suits you.”

“Brown…?” His gaze flicks down to his clothing. “Um...it’s red.”

“Oh, sorry.” George smiles a little. “I’m...colorblind.”

“Oh.” Dream doesn’t know what to say to that. “..What’s your favorite color, then?”

  
George smiles a bit. People tend to ask him “what color is this” when he tells them about his colorblindness, so it was a nice change. “Blue.”

“Oh, guess it would be.” Dream says, gesturing vaguely at George’s blue coat. 

“I can pretty much only see blue and yellow.” George explains. 

For the second time that night, Dream genuinely smiles. The tension is lifted. “That’s a shame.”

“Eh, it’s not that bad.” George leans to rest his head under Dream’s chin. “After 24 years, you get used to it.”

“You’re _24?_ ” Dream widens his eyes in disbelief. “You look like- like you’re fucking 19 years old!”

George laughs against his chest. It makes Dream want to hold him closer. So close he can’t breathe. 

“Well, at least I’m not a giant. That’s good.”

“I’m not a giant, you’re just short.”

“Alright, _Dream,_ how old are you, then?” There’s that snarky tone again. It was oddly relieving to hear it return.

“21,” Dream takes pride in the authentic answer. 

George breathes. “I’m older than you?” He presses his cheek into Dream’s shirt, lowering his arm. “Surprising.”

Dream’s fingers press into George’s back, he suppresses the impulse to tear through the coat and dig into his skin. “Don’t get any ideas.”

The two of them pass under a street lantern, illuminating both face and mask in orange-yellows as George innocently looks up. “I don’t know what you mean.”

They stop moving. 

Dream attempts to tug at George’s heart to unravel it. “You’re so pretty.”

Although hesitant, George smiles.

It seems George savors the moment. They get lost in each other’s eyes for very different reasons. The lingering scent of burnt-out candles settles between them.

“The dance was...good. You didn’t step on me, at least.” 

Dream chuckles at his boldness and tilts George’s chin up. “I wouldn’t do that unless you asked.” 

The latter cringes, but laughs it off and turns away. “You’re so weird.”

“Weird can be good, at least I’m not boring.” 

“Yeah…” George’s expression becomes unreadable. “I guess you’re not.”

Dream’s eyes wander over George’s shoulder, and he notices the moon setting behind the thickly clouded horizon. _It’s now or never._

“What do you say about taking this...elsewhere?” He rests a hand on the human’s neck, carefully caressing his vulnerable skin. “Somewhere safe. I promise.” _Please make this easy for me._

George looks back with an initially flushed expression at his words, but suddenly retreats immediately to his stubborn demeanor. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Dream..” He nudges Dream’s hand off of his neck, and Dream hopes that his best attempt at a disappointed whine is enough to make George reconsider. It seems it does when his expression softens. “But...maybe I’ll see you around?”

Dim light peeks out tauntingly above a tavern roof. There wouldn’t be enough time to lure George into the woods before the sun rose. It was impressive; the fact that this random mortal had managed to distract him for such a long time. He even put aside his desire for blood for a while to continue talking with him.

His mouth waters at the thought of sinking his teeth into George’s soft skin, the temptation to suck the blood out of him and claim his body as his own made Dream’s heart hammer. He was _right here._

Regardless, he uses better judgement and shoves the instincts down before he can act on them. 

“Wait…” George speaks up again. “I need to know what you look like.”

A bomb ticks inside Dream. “You- no you don’t. I’ll-”

Before Dream can even spout an excuse, George slips his hands around his neck and up to the mask’s strap to undo the buckle. And just like that, Dream’s vision is opened and cleared without the mesh filtering it.

George holds the plastic as if it is porcelain and stares at Dream’s features. He looks dumbfounded.

Dream makes an active effort to not open his mouth too much while speaking. “Why did you-”

“ _Wow_.” George murmurs.

And in an instant, Dream now feels like the vulnerable one. His face feels naked without the mask over it. He doesn’t like the feeling. He doesn’t like not knowing what to say. His face feels stiff and embarrassed as George bores into his eyes. 

“I...I have to go. See you, George.” 

“But- wait! Dream, I-”

“Goodbye.” Dream’s touch lingers over George’s nimble fingers as they go their separate ways. It feels as if a rubber band snaps in the air when their contact seizes. Dream can feel George’s gaze burn into the back of his head as he turns away. George doesn’t follow him.

The vampire strides around an alley corner, out of sight of the people, and then immediately breaks into a sprint. 

He crosses into the open plains, and spots the dawnlight growing closer. He mutters breathless curses and picks up the pace more. “Fuck, fuck, come on.” The first warm orange light grows closer across the field, and the woods’ first trees seem so far. “Shit, come on!” Dream’s dash is frantic, he tears the earth beneath his dress shoes with each running step. 

Shade grows nearer, and so does a sudden beam of light. He leaps desperately beneath the shaded grove with a grunt as he slams into the tree trunk, growling in pain as a flick of light catches his ankle. 

“AGH, fuck!” He closes his fingers around the wound, and winces at the violent hissing noise it makes. Heaving breaths fill his chest as the pain diminishes.

He retracts his hand carefully with a sigh. _That was too close._

He glances up to the village, and notices the landscape was completely draped in pure sunlight now. Distant figures had begun emerging from doorways to start their day, bustling about and chatting with no awareness that a vampire had nearly killed one of them moments prior.

_George._

That was...that wasn’t how things were meant to go at all.

Other vampires had done it a million times. It was supposed to be easy - to waltz into the town and pick a human to satisfy his craving for blood. It wasn’t meant to be difficult, emotions had no place in such a thing. 

Humans never had any bearing over him. He wouldn’t let them.

George was different. George was clever, kind of a brat, but also...kind of charming?

Dream’s mind returns to the look he saw in George’s doe eyes when he looked up at him. So trusting. He saw two sides of someone in the same night.

There was something different about him. Something that he couldn’t just forget about, no, he couldn’t just go look for a different prey. George had something that…

_He reminds me of myself somehow._

Dream’s breath leaves his lungs for a moment. He stands on his good foot against the dark oak tree trunk.

_He made me feel something enough to stop me from getting what I wanted._

Dream couldn’t stand it. Nobody is going to do that to him.

He has to see George again. 


	2. Moonlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiii we're back! tysm for the support on this :) really appreciate it!! super swag bro  
> we'll be updating on wednesdays, we don't have the whole story written but we have a lot so we'll upload weekly
> 
> Warnings for chapter 2: talk of death/murder, mild homophobia talk, swearing, minor character death
> 
> enjoy :D

George wakes up in pain.

He supposes it’s the shrimp-like position he sleeps in, it’s terrible for his back. The covers softly try to convince him to lay back down, but after another minute of trying to ignore the fact that time exists, he pushes them off coldly. He groans and sits up, twisting his back and listening to the ripple of cracks along his spine. He takes one look at the time and sighs. He’d slept in very late. Not the first time, he supposes.

Memories of the previous night almost immediately plague him, like a parasite that has no intention of leaving now that it’s under his skin. The man in that dumb mask, the way his voice sounded, how it made George-

He groans. “Not yet.” He murmurs to himself.  _ It’s too early to think about everything. _

He crawls out of bed to force himself to get ready for whatever daylight he has left.

After a small (and frankly terrible; George cannot cook for himself) breakfast of toast and eggs, he opts to clean his vampire hunting gear, disappointed in the fact that he doesn’t have enough time left in the day to actually hunt. If he doesn’t have enough time to go kill some vampires, he can at least keep his weapons in good shape.

His head spins in muddled cotton thoughts about how fatigued all of his limbs felt.  _ I shouldn’t have come home so late last night. _

_ Last night. _

He allows himself to sink into the breakfast chair cushion. George’s hand raises slowly to touch his cheek, remembering the warmth of Dream’s chest against it. The laugh, the slow heartbeat, the promises he gave. The promises he got.

He hadn’t felt like that in a long,  _ long  _ time.

George remembered feeling miserable earlier that night. He remembered the way he resented all the people there and their carelessness, how they could all just go on with their lives while the world they were so carefree in could throw them out at any given chance. 

But then that idiot had showed up.

Something about the way he talked made him want to both crumble into a million pieces, but also punch him square in his pretty face.

The way Dream  _ really _ cared, how he held him so close, promised him security. And for the first time in what had felt like eternity, George allowed himself to feel safe. 

Safe with a handsome stranger he had never met.

And the most outlandish thing of all, George didn’t regret a second of it. In fact, he dare say he  _ misses _ it. Dream had felt like an anchor in a deep sea where George had been wading farther and farther into with no chance of return, and Dream was a landmark pulling him to shore.

That feeling was so, so foreign. He began to think that kind of connection didn’t exist anymore.

The feeling of his head to a strong chest. Swaying in the darkness, with nothing to listen to but the sound of a muted orchestra and each other’s light breaths. Just thinking about the close proximity with Dream made George hug his arms around himself without realizing it.

Excitement, unpredictability, unexpected closeness. It was all so fast, what happened to all the steps he had to suffer through first? He couldn’t just go to the top like that, that kind of unwarranted kindness never came for free. 

Even knowing that, he couldn’t help but take the opportunity.

_ Maybe I’ll see you around. _

He’d be cheating at life itself if he ever got to experience that again.

His feet shuffle on the carpet as he makes his way to his closet, opening it to a large array of fearsome wooden stakes, muskets, silver bullets, and garlic stashes.

George has been a vampire hunter since he was in his mid-teens, motivated by the large scar that stretched from his left collarbone to shoulder. His desire for revenge is something that festers inside him like a septic wound, the only effective antibiotic being execution. 

He digs through his coat closet and lays out the arsenal on his dining table with  _ clangs  _ and  _ thumps _ , sitting down to wash and tend to the weaponry. With a dirty rag and some soapy water, he gets to work scrubbing away the grime and dry blood that stained the tools. The room is silent save for the sound of cloth on metal. It was a sound he’d grown to be calmed by. Relief from the intensity of his normal job.

With each swipe away of dust, memories replay again and again in his mind. This was often how he would end up processing things that were new, things that disrupted his routine life - he would busy himself with a familiar routine and seclude himself. The weapons made him feel comfortable. It was something familiar and unchanging - his devotion to a lifestyle that others might call crazy.

_ What would Dream think about me living like this?  _ George wonders.  _ Maybe he’d scold me for such a stupid obsession, or- no. He’d laugh. He’d laugh with that dumb smile of his. Then probably say something that makes me want to slap him.  _ George smiles to himself at the thought, but it doesn’t last too long.  _ Or maybe he would think I’m weird like everyone else does. _

It was a good thing he probably wouldn’t see him again. He wouldn’t have to find out.

\----

Just as he finishes, there’s a knock at the door. He groans. “Coming.” He replies, quickly dumping all his weapons in the corner of the room behind the front door. He opens the creaky door, met with a slightly taller ravenette. His friend and neighbor Sapnap. His expression softens.

“Oh, hi Sap.”

“Hey George.” His friend smirks at him, but there’s a hint of kindness in his expression. “Wow, didn’t think you’d be home this time of day. You look like shit.”   
“You’re one to talk.” George says unphased. “I wasn’t really expecting visitors, but you can come in.” The brunette says, stepping out of the way. He does his best to sound like he had been having a regular day, like nothing was changed. Like he hadn’t gone out last night and made a massive, unpredictable ripple in his routine he’d grown so used to. Sapnap laughs and steps inside, thanking him. 

“You need something?” George asks, closing the door.

“Nah,” Sapnap says, looking around the room a little. “Just wanted to ask how you’ve been since, you know, you never wanna hang out with me. It’s been a while.”   
“It’s been like a week! I don’t come to your house  _ one time _ and you won’t stop complaining about it.” George smiles, rolling his eyes. 

“I miss you!” He pouts, dramatically sticking his lip out. “Everyone else in this town is an asshole.”

“Can’t argue with that.” George says, but hesitates. “Mostly.”

Sapnap’s eyes land on the weapons messily stacked in the corner of the room. “Hm. I assume you’re still doing the whole vampire hunting thing?” He asks. George looks over at where Sapnap’s eyes are fixed. “Well, yeah, it doesn’t just go away. It’s a hobby.” He says, unsure what else to call it. _ It’s an addiction. _

George begins walking his way into the living room as a signal for Sapnap to follow. He plops down at the seat he was at before answering the door, and Sapnap sits next to him a seat away and slouches down casually. He’d gotten used to having him over often, and though George wasn’t the most extroverted person, he had to admit he enjoyed the company.

“So how’ve you been?” George asks.

“Good, good.” Sapnap says. “Work is boring, but wood isn’t going to cut itself, y’know. Makes money, at least. Oh- and I came to ask, were you at the town square last night? I heard they were hosting an event.”

George’s eyes flicker up. “Yeah, how’d you know?”   
“You left the house late.” Sapnap points out. “I was just wondering, since there were a lot of people down there. You meet anyone?” He questions, returning to his cocky and teasing demeaner. 

“Mm, no.” George answers immediately. He returns his gaze to his fingers and absently traces a circle on the top of his hand. 

Sapnap knows he’s lying once the blood begins to rush to his face, uncomfortably riveting memories of last night occupying his brain. He hates that he can’t hide his emotions easily, especially from Sapnap.

“Wait, you did, didn’t you?” Sapnap beams at him. George confirms his suspicion when he brings a hand to his face. “Dude, congrats!”

“I didn’t, I’m serious.” George says again, sounding more unsure now.

“Come on man, just tell me about him.” Sapnap says excitedly. He takes on a little more of a soft tone when he notices George’s discomfort. “Look, you know I don’t care if it’s a guy right?” 

George had told Sapnap about not being interested in girls about a year after he first moved in. It was after a painfully vulnerable conversation telling him about his family and why he had to leave. Though he didn’t tell him everything, Sapnap’s comfort and support meant more to him than he’d ever admit. It was a memory he cherished.

  
“I…” He runs a hand through his hair. “I know but.. It still feels weird to talk about it.” George says carefully. His tone lowers to a mutter. “Other people don’t-If anyone hears, I...” 

“No one’s listening dude.” Sapnap reassures. “It’s just me.” George meets his eyes. It was the same look he remembered from all those nights ago, so genuine and different from his usually harsh demeanor. George sighs. Sapnap always had a way of getting him to talk.

“Okay well.. I did meet this guy..” He says, looking down a little. He pauses before speaking again, swallowing the spit building in his mouth. “He bought me a drink and we danced a bit. I feel like.. I think I may have...trusted him too much. No, I definitely did.”   
“Oh god, did he do something?” Sapnap sits up.

“No,” George assures, seeing Sapnap relax. “No, I just felt like I was oversharing sometimes. Like...yeah. I told him a lot. But...he was really uh...sweet, actually.” George can’t fight the fond smile growing on his face. “It’s just weird that I felt so like.. drawn to him? I dunno. I’m not usually the, uhm...relationship type.” George tugs at his shirt collar that suddenly is tight and clingy on him, feeling fidgety and hot before realizing Sapnap’s silence was beckoning him to continue. “He was really witty, I liked hearing him talk to me.”

“What’s his name?” Sapnap asks. 

“Dream.” George says. He pauses before adding, “Not the most conventional name, I know.” with a small smile.

“He sounds like a real charmer.” Sapnap says. “I haven’t seen you look like that  _ ever  _ when talking about someone.” He leans his elbows on the table with a cocky grin. “You should go for it.”

“Ugh, I don’t think I’m ready for that.” George groans, throwing his head back with a thud. 

“C’mon man, you gotta take the opportunity before he thinks you’re not interested or something. You should go for things more, it always feels like you just wait for the guys to come to you and then things just fall apart when you don’t put equal effort in. It’s already hard enough for you as is.”

“I know, it’s just...stressful. He makes me nervous, but I guess that’s technically a good thing...like in relationships, or whatever. I don’t know. He’s just like- like out of my league, I guess? But then he did things like...literally the first thing he said to me was _hey baby,”_ George makes his best attempt to lower his voice to a similar pitch to Dream’s, forcing a bad american accent. It doesn’t work at all and Sapnap snickers. “Like, who does that?” 

“ _ Wot-eva.  _ Sounds to  _ me _ like you’re whipped. You’re not giving it a chance. You’re not gonna know if he likes you if you don't like, try. Besides, he’s already using pet names.”

“Ugh, I.. I don’t know.” George smiled. The blooming warmth in his chest was something he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to. “He’s probably into women, you know.”

“It sounds like he was pretty dead set on flirting with you.” Sapnap repeats, slowly shrugging. “I dunno, man.” 

George sighs. “Me neither. I don’t even know if I’ll see him again.”

Sapnap places a hand on his shoulder. “Well you know what to do if you get the chance. Don’t let him pass you by.”

_ Don’t let your chance go.  _ George settles.

\----

The forest breeze is warm against Dream’s skin. He hated it, it was always like that in the day, the sun’s wrath couldn’t be kept at bay even by the dense woods. It still found a way to taunt him even if it couldn’t get under the canopy’s shadows.

The tiny metal is cold in his fingers as he holds it up to his mouth. He begins gently at first, filing away at his fangs with ease. He presses the tool against the sharp tip, rubbing back and forth rhythmically.

It’s painful, so he doesn’t want to force it, but he finds that it’s not effective if it doesn’t hurt. Be begins to file harder, pausing to spit. It was times like this that Dream wishes he could see himself in a mirror to make sure he didn’t fuck anything up. 

It felt wrong, like he was removing an essential part of who he was and what he lived for as he ground the tooth away, but he knew he had to. Means to an end.

If George somehow saw his teeth, it would be over. The longer he could keep up this charade, the more chances he’d have to attack. 

Not that he needed more than one. He wouldn’t hesitate. Not again.

He files away at the other fang and winces when it scrapes against the tool, one movement at a time his vampiric teeth become less prominent.

Once they’re even he looks just a little more human. His thumbs run over the teeth tips; it feels strange to not be pricked when he touches them. Perfect. Enough to appear human, but still sharp enough to dig under skin. He’d just have to bite a little harder. It felt unnatural, but it was necessary. He turns to watch the last of the day’s sunlight disappear below the horizon.

George wouldn’t get away this time.

\----

_ Knock knock.  _ George glances upwards.  _ Sapnap again? What the hell does he need this time? _

“Coming!” He stands with a groan, and gathers the stakes of varying sharpness in his arms sloppily. He dumps them to the side of his couch and hurriedly gathers silver bullets and garlic bags to shove next to the countless weapons so that they would be in some sort of order and out of the way.

Another knock is heard. “I  _ said  _ I’m coming, Sapnap!” God, he’s always so impatient. It made George consider not opening the door at all just to piss him off.

Regardless, he walks over and twists the slightly creaky knob.

George stops himself from making a disgruntled comment on how he can’t get any alone time when he looks up to see someone who  _ definitely  _ wasn’t Sapnap. 

The tall man that stands before him was unexpected. Dirty blonde. Stacked posture. Long-sleeved, white button-up shirt with beige pants, a fitted dark-olive vest on top. He looked too young to be some homeless person asking for money, well-kept, too, telling from his clear, sun-kissed skin and freckled cheeks. 

“Who’s Sapnap?” The blonde asks, raising a brow. His voice is like hot syrup, George swears he almost hears a possessive undertone in it. The visitor’s expression is self assured, looking down on George with an unsettling familiarity. 

George squints. “Who...?” As he contemplates who this man was, it suddenly hits him.

Dream looks different in the porchlight than in the town square’s darkness.

The piercing eyes, the beautifully messy way that his hair just barely fell over his forehead, the expression on his face last night...he was just as enthralled as George had been. His touch, his voice, his safeness, his warmth...

It was Dream.

His heart plummets.

The same Dream he had been thinking nonstop about the past few hours like some dumb giddy teenager going on a date.

He has to stop himself from drinking in his incredible facial features all over again. “Oh, um...you’re Dream. Right.” George clears his throat. The sudden urge to fix his painfully casual appearance overwhelms him. “I-I didn’t think anyone would come by this time of night.” He sounds much more nervous than he would’ve liked.

Dream leans an elbow against the doorframe and grins down at him. George feels small. His mind is suddenly plagued with memories from the previous night, how he trusted Dream with a part of himself that he never showed to anyone, leaning on him,  _ relying _ on him. How stupid he had felt for doing it. How he wants to do it again, and again, even now when-

“Oh, it’s alright, I don’t mind.” Somehow, George feels trapped simply from the way Dream was looking at him. “I think you look nice, actually.” 

George laughs breathily. God, his voice. He wanted to be so close to it. He wanted to hear it over and over. 

_ God, I really do have it bad, don’t I? _

“I don’t, you don’t have to pretend, you know.” A sheepish smile creeps onto his face. “You’re dressed much better, anyways.”

“I’m not lying, George.” The sound of George’s name in Dream’s mouth made him internally melt. It sounded like it belonged on his lips. “But yeah, the reason I’m here is I was wondering if you would be interested in maybe talking some more?” Dream tilts his head down to level more with George. It makes George’s breath stutter. “Maybe...inside?”

  
Sparks of infatuation creep down George’s spine.  _ He has to be joking.  _ George laughs in an attempt to calm his heart slamming to his ribcage. “I can’t believe you actually came to see me again- wait, how did you find where I  _ live? _ !”

“Oh, it was easy,” Dream boasts. “I just knocked at every house with blue decorations. You wore all blue last night, said it was your favorite color.” 

George bites away a smile.  _ He remembered my favorite colour.  _ “That’s like...psychopath behaviour.”

Dream wheezes. It was such a stupid, contagious laugh. “ _ Psychopath?  _ I’m just- I wanted-”

“Yeah?” George purrs. His flirty nature was definitely going to be the end of him. “What did you want?”

“I just wanted to see you again,” Dream admits. “I thought we had a good time.”

George’s face brightens. “You think so…?”

“Of course,” Dream rests a hand on George’s shoulder. The firm hold makes him shiver. “So...can I come in?”

George’s stomach drops. He wants to say yes. He really does.

His eyes briefly glance to his hunting equipment behind the door before returning to Dream. 

“I.. I don’t think that’s a great idea right now..” George says slowly, carefully stepping back from the doorway so his feet are out of view. “Maybe we can take a walk?” He suggests, gently kicking away his bag of weaponry and hoping Dream doesn’t hear it.

Dream looks disappointed, but he agrees nonetheless. “Okay, let’s take a walk.”

George smiles a bit, “Alright, just let me get dressed. Hold on.” Dream nods.

The moment he closes the door, George exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

_ He...he wants to spend time with me. I didn’t fuck anything up yet.  _

His heart swells, running a hand through his fluffy hair.  _ I still have a chance. _

\----

George doesn’t stand a chance.

Dream had guessed his flirty approach the previous night would be effective, but god, the idiot looked practically lovestruck. It was sad, honestly.

If George wasn’t human, Dream might’ve actually considered him someone of interest - attractive, witty, not one dimensional. It made him entertaining for sure.

Too bad Dream would kill him by the end of the night. He might miss it.

George emerges from the doorway once again, but this time much more presentable looking. His hair is brushed to one side, and is dressed in an intricately patterned blue vest with a light grey undershirt and dark pants. He looked more delicious than ever. It was as if fate was tempting him.

“Wow, George,” George turns his head to the side with an embarrassed expression. “You put all that on for me?”

Dream steps to the side to allow George to stand beside him. Even in dress shoes, George still stands below Dream’s chin. “Don’t feel too special, I just don’t want people thinking I’m rubbish here.” He rolls his eyes.

He closes and locks his front door before the two of them proceed on a walk down the town’s street.

“Since you’re new in town, you want a tour?”

“I’d like that.” Dream grins down at him as if they were best friends.

They exit the small rusty gate between George’s house and the road, past the mossy stone wall. The environment is beginning to grow on Dream, considering he often stays out in the woods. Once you ignore all the inconsiderate human residents, it’s actually rather cozy inside.

The tense silence between them prompts George to remember Sapnap’s earlier advice, which causes him to fidget in his pockets. George wasn’t much of a flirter (or a talker, to be honest), but he knew what he’d promised. Just go for it.

“So, when did you move into town?”

“Uh, recently.” Dream says emptily, unable to make up a convincing answer on the spot. “Like, a month ago.”   
George doesn’t seem to read into it before responding. “Nice, where’d you move from?”

“Fairfield county.” Dream says, spewing the name of the first town he can think of. George still doesn’t catch on, he’s thankful for the older’s obliviousness. “When did you move here?”   
“Oh, I’ve been in this area my whole life. Though I moved into my house about 6 years ago.” George says simply, looking at the stone sidewalk.

“Wow, so you must know your way around pretty well then.”   
“I’d say so.”   
They turn the corner of the street, now in view of more lights from different stores lined up the street. Dream squints a bit, sensitive to the shine. 

“What do you think about getting some food?” George asks, cautious but daring.   
  


Dream doesn’t eat anything but blood, he can hardly stand the taste of small animals, let alone  _ human food.  _ Despite this, he still manages to answer after a little hesitation. “Are you asking me out, George?”

George ignores his heart’s stutter when Dream says his name, voice low. Dream knows it gets to him. He’s too easy. “No, I’m asking if you want food.”

“I think you’re asking me out. I accept.” Dream says, eyes shining.

George laughs breathily, “Right then, what do you want to eat?”

He isn’t sure what to say, let alone how he will stomach the food he’s about to try and eat. “Whatever you’d like.” He says eventually.

“Maybe we can get ice cream.” George says with a smile, looking up. Dream nods, making his best ‘I can’t wait to have ice cream’ face. “That sounds good.” 

Venturing down the street, the pair stops at a small ice cream parlor at a street corner, the window displays various ice cream cones and lists of a handful of flavors. The street lanterns reflect in the window of the top half of the entry door. “I used to come here a lot with my parents.” George says. 

“Really? That sounds nice.” Dream responds, opening the door for the shorter. He thanks him and walks inside, the taller following not far behind.

When they get to the white granite counter, there’s an assortment of colors in bins behind the glass. Dream runs his eyes over the various flavor names, not really thinking about what any of them mean. George orders his flavor and turns to Dream, waiting for him to recite his order. He doesn’t. “Dream?”

“Um.. I’m not that hungry, I probably won’t get anything. How about we just go somewhere together...alone, preferably?”   
“Aw, c’mon. There’s always room for ice cream. I’ll pay, I’m serious.”

Dream wanted to volunteer to pay, but he didn’t exactly have any money to pay with. “Uh, alright, if you insist...any flavor you recommend?”

“I like cookies and creme, but maybe you’d like chocolate or something? That’s pretty good too.” George turns to him. Dream’s staring a little. He turns to face the employee across the counter.

“Then I’ll get one scoop of chocolate, please.”   
  
Once the transaction is complete, the two of them exit the shop and walk out onto the dark street. They make their way down the concrete to the outskirts of town with shops and houses becoming more scattered. “How’s your ice cream?” Dream asks.

“Good, yours?”   
Dream regrets asking once he realizes now George is going to watch him eat. He smiles uncertainly, taking a small lick of his dripping ice cream cone (George thinks it’s cute).

It takes everything he has not to gag.

Dream swallows, hating the disgustingly sweet flavor on his tongue. He’s starting to regret not just picking another human to go after. He nods at George, “It’s good.”

Apparently George buys it. “Yeah, I love their ice cream. Oh- there’s a park closeby, do you want to go there? It might be nice to show you around a bit.”

“Depends,” Dream lowers his tone to a rumble. “Will it just be us there?”

George breathes, eyes fixed to the rocky path. “I- yeah, it’s pretty quiet there. Especially this time of night, almost nobody comes out here.” 

_ Perfect.  _ “Not you, though? You still come out here, why’s that?”

George hesitates. “It doesn’t scare me like other people.”

Dream’s head turns to George. George doesn’t look up. 

“What doesn’t scare you?” He asks carefully.

George’s brows lower slightly at the ground. “ _ Vampires. _ ” 

The way he says the word is plagued with disgust, and his eyes hold a type of contempt that Dream had never seen before in him.

Dream chuckles ironically. “Vampires?”

“Yeah.” George stops eating his ice cream. It drips down the edges of the cone. “Of course they wouldn’t tell you before you moved here. The things are monsters, nobody would actually move here if they knew.”

Dream feels insulted.  _ Monsters. I’ll show you what a monster is you- _

“But hey, the park almost never has vampires. We’ll be fine.” George smiles up at him.

Dream smiles back. “Yup, it’s just us. Besides, I’ll be here to protect you.”

George rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance. He can’t help the small smile on his face.

George finishes his ice cream, and Dream throws his away into a trash bin when George isn’t looking.

The park they arrive at is truly beautiful. It wasn’t big - it was a simple grassy clearing with some benches here and there, patches of vibrant flowers that were difficult to see under the night sky and a small creek that ran along a gravel path. The area was bordered by buildings out of use and empty, most of which were stores and restaurants that were closed up for the night.

“Wow,” Dream exhales. “I...I’ll give it to you, this  _ is  _ pretty.” Somehow, after his whole life around the village, Dream had never bothered to come to this part of town. It was actually kind of nice. He could see why someone as introverted and quiet-natured as George would like it.

George grins. “Right? I love it here.” 

The two make their way to a bench against the back wall of a coffee shop. George sits first, pulling his legs and arms close to himself allow Dream plenty of room to sit beside him. 

“I come here a lot...well, not a lot, really. Just when I get free time anymore.” George’s eyes watch the sky, seeming to take in every detail as if he’d seen them a million times. “I wish I got more time to come here.”

“Why don’t you?” Dream places an arm on the bench’s back, nearly touching George’s shoulders. “What keeps you from it? You should do some good things for yourself.”

“I…” George folds his arms together. He does that a lot, Dream notices. “I don’t have the time.”

“Well,” Dream dares to rest his arm over George’s shoulder. George squirms a bit. “You have the time now.”

“Yeah...yeah, I guess I do.” He gives a smile. “What about you?”

“Me?” Dream muses. “What  _ about _ me?”

“What do  _ you  _ do when you get free time? You haven’t told me a lot about yourself.”

Dream scoffs. Free time wasn’t really a thing to him. All his time is spent either hunting, fighting other vampires or…

Right, there was one thing.

“I make things sometimes, I guess.”

“Make things?” George questions. He tilts his head to look at his face. “Like what?”

“Like…” God, this was so dumb. Dream didn’t plan on telling anyone about this, especially not someone like George. “Treehouses. I-I make treehouses. Sometimes.” It wasn’t a lie, he did make houses in trees. Even if they were kind of a mess.

The fascination on George’s face makes Dream realize that yes, it was definitely a bad idea to bring it up. “Really? You can  _ make treehouses? _ That’s, like, cool! I didn’t really figure you to be the type.”

Dream rolls his eyes. “No, no, forget I said anything. It’s-it’s dumb. I don’t even do it that much.”

George turns his body to face Dream. Their knees touch. “Sounds like you’re embarrassed.” He smirks.

Dream frowns. He wants to wipe the stupid smirk off of his face right then. “I’m not embarrassed.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to lie.” George pushes. “I think it’s nice you have a hobby like that.”

Dream sighs and drags a hand down his face in exasperation. “Okay, okay. Fine.” Dream looks to the grass in an attempt to avoid George’s stupid grin, and spots a blue orchid by his feet. He removes his arm from around George to lean down and picks it.

“Hey, look what I got for you.” He holds it to George’s chest. His knuckles brush lightly over his shirt. 

George scrunches his nose up at it, but smiles and takes it between his fingers like a feather. “For...me? Why? You just- you just got this off the ground.”

“Because, it’s cute.” Dream trails his fingers up to caress George’s cheek. “Like you.”

George attempts to cover his face in his hands, but the red still shows. “Why would you-” He giggles nervously. “Why would you say something like that?”

He laughs at how fast George’s brattiness flees. “Cuz, I can.” 

“I’m glad other people aren’t here, they might think we’re, like..”

“What?”

George’s voice turns to a mutter. “On a date, or something.” He turns away. His fingers run nervously back and forth on his knees.

“And if they did?”

George opens his mouth to respond, but closes it again. He stares at his hands instead of choosing to look at Dream.

The sound of George’s pulse was starting to get unbearable. Especially when it got quiet. There was nothing stopping Dream right now, he realizes. This was the moment he was waiting-

“How do you do that?” George suddenly says.

“Do what?”

“How do you just...talk like that,” George makes eye contact with him. It’s paralyzing. Dream forgot how rich and deep they were. “And not feel weird?”

He considers the question for a moment. He remembered vaguely hearing that humans were discouraged from having romantic relations with those of the same gender, but he never really understood why. Dumb rule, if you asked him.

He answers honestly. “It’s not weird to me.” Dream shrugs. “It makes literally zero sense for someone else to tell you who to love.”

George’s heart skips a beat.  _ Love. _

“I- yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right.” George relaxes his shoulders and smiles.

Dream gets a strange sense of pride from it, and feels his heart swell.  _ He has a nice smile. _

Dream’s heart stops.

_ He’s your prey. Not a friend. Not a...person of interest.  _

_ Snap out of it. _

Dream stands abruptly. 

George looks at him in confusion. “Dream?”

“I think we should get going.” Dream deadpans. He begins walking along the building wall. George wants to question it, but walks after him.

“Wait, was it- was it something I did?”

“No, no.” Dream’s eyes are fixed forwards. “I just think that we should go.”

George narrows his eyes. “You got nervous, didn’t you?”

“Stop.”

“You don’t have to hide it, I-”

George is cut off mid sentence by a grab to his forearms and a shove to the nearby brick wall. The breath is knocked out of him for a moment.

“I  _ said, _ ” Dream growls. “ _ to stop.” _

George does.

There’s a stretch of silence. With George against the wall like this, it’s almost laughable how easy it would be for Dream to bite George right now and draw out his blood. He’s salivating at the thought.

“Dream?” George questions, once he’s quiet for too long. Dream leans in and takes in the scent of George’s skin, yearning for a taste of the blood beneath. His breath is shallow, heart beating animalistically in his chest. He puts a hand on George’s shoulder, gently trailing to his pale neck and up to his cheek. His frame is small, delicate. His palm alone reaches from George’s collarbone to jawline. George shudders under his touch.

“Dream..?” George sounds nervous.

Dream recalls what George had said the previous night, all that talk about being taken advantage of and hurt. It made his heart ache in the same way again. Was he really going to be the one to take his life? When the worst he’d done to him was a couple throw away insults?

_ Come on. Just do it.  _ Dream swears his pupils are shaking. _ He’s right here, just bite him. _

He blinks harshly. Against his body’s wishes, he lowers his hand and takes a step back. George looks up at him with a flustered expression.

“Sorry.” Dream says, quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s.. okay.” George says in response, not completely sure what he was apologizing for. The air is tense, but they’re both hoping the tension will lift soon enough, at least Dream hopes it will. “Hey, um.. Would you be willing to walk me home?”

“Of course.” Dream clears his throat, adjusting his shirt collar. 

The walk back is somewhat conversationless, they both take the time to admire their environment. And probably to take time to avoid thinking about what just happened. Dream looks over at George without turning his head to look.

He walks with his hands shoved deep in his dress pants’ pockets, his eyes overly concentrated on the passing buildings on the opposite side of Dream. Though it was hard to see in the heavy night, there was still a hint of roseiness on his cheeks.

Did George know now? Was what he just did too obvious, is that why he was so quiet? Maybe Dream had made it painfully obvious at this point that he was a vampire, and though humans were dense, he had a feeling George was bright enough to see things like that. Was his focus on the trees beside him a misplaced worry for his life? If he knew he was walking next to a vampire right now, though, why didn’t he just run? Or maybe he thought running would get him killed, so instead he wants to act like nothing’s wrong? 

_ My chance might’ve just been blown. If only I could control my goddamn instincts. _

Dream exhales slowly, and returns his focus to the bricked path.  _ Maybe getting to know him was a bad idea. Now I’m stuck. _

Suddenly, Dream hears a commotion of panicked rambling and orders to his right. He spots a group of paramedics and nurses, crowded around an area at the mouth of the woods. They’re in the middle of removing a body found within, a victim of a vampire attack. George knows what it means as soon as the stretcher passes them by. Dream winces.

_ What a mood killer. _

“Yikes,” Dream says. “That.. sucks.”

“Yeah.” George says. His voice is a murmur. Dream begins to walk, inciting George to continue with him. He follows after a moment of hesitation.  _ He’s still responding to you. Maybe he doesn’t know.  _

“Glad we went to the park instead, huh?” Dream tries. When he gets no response, he turns to see George with his hands shoved in his pockets and head to the ground. “George..?”

George looks up. “Hm?” His expression had changed to anything but friendly.

“You...alright?”

George drops his head again. “It’s nothing.”

Dream frowns.  _ He must have pieced it all together. That’s why he’s being so cold. _

The two approach George’s house and come to a stop. George had at least lifted his head a little, but was obviously still upset by the sight they’d passed. Dream can’t help but feel a little bad for him. George put up with a lot.

“Hey,” Dream carefully rests a hand on George’s forearm, and George looks up. “You’re…” He resists cringing at his own words. “You’re gonna be alright.”

George’s face softens, and he offers a weak smile. “I know, I know. Thank you, I had a good time, really. Even if you’re kinda weird sometimes.”

Dream suppresses arguing with the claim. Maybe George didn’t hate his guts after all. “I look forward to next time. This was fun.” The words leave his mouth without a second thought. They both smile. It was such a relief to see George smile again.

“Can…” George mutters. “Can I hug you?”

Dream doesn’t even respond with words, and instead pulls George to his chest. George has to stand on the tip of his toes to reach above Dream’s shoulders, and locks his arms around his neck. Dream tightens his hold around him.

Dream’s hands turn to fists behind George’s back. With his face right next to George’s like this, the scent of rich blood is overwhelming.  _ No. Not now.  _ George doesn’t seem to notice his slowed breathing as they separate.

“See you.” Dream promises.

George smiles warmly. “See you.”

And before he knows it, George is closing his front door with a last wave to him.

_ Click. _

It feels like a huge weight is lifted from Dream’s shoulders.  _ Thank God that’s over.  _

Dream begins his stroll back to the forest, mind aimlessly wandering to things from the night. Things like George’s dimples that show when he smiles, things like how his hair fluffs up a lot at the top, things like how when they hug Dream can almost taste his blood.

By the time he looks up again, Dream is in the middle of the forest with no human life in sight. 

_ Wow.  _ He slumps against a tree.  _ I’m pathetic. _

His stomach growls.

_ It was just a bad time.  _ He tells himself.  _ I would’ve bitten him if I had more time. He’s no different than anyone else. He’s just… _

“I don’t want to hurt him like that.” His voice is weak. The spoken truth hangs in the air, and sinks into every fiber of his being.

He stands upright. 

“There’s something wrong with me,” He croaks. “It’s  _ easy _ , just like everyone says it is…” He tries to imagine finding George in the forest, pouncing on him and tearing his throat open like so many other vampires did every night. He tries to imagine feeling nothing when he makes eye contact with him, watching the dark brown color drain from his eyes. 

But it only makes him more upset.

His eyes meet the ground.

“I don’t like him.”

_ Yes you do. _

“I can’t like him.”

_ Why not? _

“He’s just a target. That’s it.”

_ Do you really believe that? _

“I-I don’t know...why can’t I just…” He grits his teeth.

Indecision drowns him.

He whips around to grip the tree in both his hands, tears it out of the ground with a yell and slams it to the forest floor.


	3. Open Wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im really happy with how well this is doing so thank you all for your comments again !! a quick reminder to check out my second author for this story at https://www.wattpad.com/user/VanilluvCoffee :) thank you again
> 
> Warnings for chapter 3: blood, swearing, hunting, injury
> 
> enjoy :D

George is getting ready for bed when he hears a distant cracking in the woods.

He pauses briefly at the sound, before a much louder slam follows, paired with a yell. Instead of the normal screams he’d grown horribly used to that sounded terrified or blood-curdling, it sounded completely furious. It’s unsettling, and makes his mind start to run on high gear. He’s worried if he stops too long to question it, he’ll do something he’ll regret.

His mind briefly considers Dream’s safety being in jeopardy, before he shoos the thought away.  _ Dream can probably protect himself anyway. _

He turns off his lights, smothers his candles, and crawls into his bed. The room is dark and quiet, making his shuffling around in the sheets loud in the empty space.

His mind wanders to the events of their evening walk. 

George enjoys their banter, he could drink in Dream's words like a strong wine and enjoy feeling tipsy. His eyes have a softness to them despite the rest of him being so arrogant, there's something so welcoming in the way he looks at him. 

He lays in the quiet for a moment.

_ Can I hug you?  _ He’d said. God, he was so lame. Asking for something as simple as a hug like it was the biggest favor of his life; he was really touch-starved. 

He didn’t regret asking, though. The pull to Dream’s chest was an overwhelmingly great reward for the embarrassment he’d endured. George could feel the strong fingers on his back, holding,  _ pulling  _ him closer. His skin still tingled where Dream had touched. He felt his arms around him, holding his body away from the rest of the Earth. Nothing could hurt him.

_ Hurt.  _ Another memory shatters the comfort, and he feels a pang in his stomach.

The brick wall against his back  _ had _ hurt. Not a lot, but it did. He didn’t really notice it until now, when he thought of it again. He couldn’t focus on anything then except how quickly Dream was able to grab him and shove him to the wall, leaving him completely at his mercy. 

His breathing grows heavy. 

He remembered Dream’s fingers gripping his forearms, how in mere seconds he had lost all ability to move how he chose.

He should’ve hated it.

George’s eyes are wide as he stares into his dark room. He hadn’t blinked in a while.

_ He could’ve done anything to me.  _ George swallows the growing stiffness on his tongue.  _ Anything. _

His heart was beating way too fast to just be lying in bed. His thoughts continue to spill over.

He thought of Dream holding his forearms again, but trailing them up to his shoulders, to his chest, to his sides. George wouldn’t move.  _ Stop. Stop thinking.  _ He imagined what Dream’s fingers would feel like under his chin, how it would feel for Dream to use his thumb to pull on his bottom lip.  _ Quit it.  _ How it would feel for his body to be pressed to the wall as Dream leaned down to press his lips to his own.

George coughs.  _ Fuck. _ His fingers cling to the sheets.

_ You just met Dream, come on. _

Flustered shame clouds his brain, he gets angry at himself for considering the possibilities.

George manages to feel a little more lost and somehow at home each time they are together.

It’s so strange, considering what little time the pair have spent together. Something about it makes George feel like they’ve been friends their whole lives. Remnants of the time they’d spent together linger in his mind as his head hits the pillow, falling nearly as hard as he’s falling for Dream.

He won’t admit it just yet.

\----

George wakes to spend yet another day in solitude, as he often does. 

His mind wanders in and out of consciousness, fleeting thoughts of how he fell asleep tease him to stay in bed longer, his cotton gray sheets are warm and try to lure him back into slumber.

He can’t afford to sleep in again.

The moment his eyes open, he jolts out of bed to throw on his work clothes. He’d grown so used to it; the rushed way he prepares himself in the morning to ensure not a second was wasted. It was a habit at this point. There was never enough time. He would do as many things at once as he could, somehow managing to throw a shirt on and brush his teeth at the same time, nearly tripping over himself as he goes to spit out the toothpaste in his mouth. If anyone could see him, they’d think he was being chased around by a ghost or something.

He would visit Sapnap, but he had work. Being an asocial individual, he doesn’t have many other friends to go to, but he didn’t mind it. Fewer friends, fewer risks. 

Considering he’d actually woken up on time, he decides it’s prime time to get some vampire hunting in. His equipment lays pre-organized by his door in a one-strap backpack, he grabs it and slings it over his shoulder, and heads out the door.

Vampire hunting became an addiction to him at a relatively young age. Whenever he fails to catch one, he feels like he’s failed the world, and all those taken from it by those monsters. It’s always been an activity that gets his adrenaline going, keeps his heart pumping rapidly in his chest. He enjoys the thrill of taking back from those who’d taken from him, time and time again.

The familiar sound of a loaded stake clicking against his crossbow repeats with each step towards the woods and away from humanity. The sun was about to rise over the horizon, faint chimes and flags waving are the only sounds this early. This was the best time to go out, people weren’t awake yet and wouldn’t see him, and vampires that could’ve been lurking would’ve retreated already back to the woods.

He comes to a stop at the pathway entrance to the daunting ocean of trees. The sun had risen completely now, and the shadow between George and the land of monsters lay only a couple feet in front of him.

A sigh leaves his chapped lips as he ventures off into the deep woods.

\---- 

A loud knock breaks the silence. 

_ What horrible timing,  _ George thinks, fumbling with the gauze roll he was attempting to wrap around his shoulder. 

“Coming,” He calls out.

He sighs deeply and stands, ripping off the gauze strip and lazily tucking the bandage in. The job he’s done is sloppy, blood continues to seep through the bandage. He throws on an unbuttoned formal shirt, rushing to button what he could. He hopes whoever’s at the door will make their visit brief. He approaches his front door and opens it with a familiar creaking sound. 

He has to look up to compensate for the tall man standing on his porch.

Upon recognizing Dream, he instantly grows self conscious of what he’s wearing. 

_ Why does he only come by when I look like shit? _

“Oh, Dream. Hello. It’s um...it’s night time.” George tries an awkward laugh, but Dream doesn’t reciprocate it. 

“Ge- Oh my  _ God, _ what the hell happened to you?!”

“Oh, uh-“ He notices that Dream’s eyes were fixed on his bleeding wound. “Oh, I uh- I fell. On some rocks.” George knew the lie was easy to see through, but he simply hoped Dream would buy it.

He didn’t. “ _ Rocks?  _ What the- n-no those were NOT rocks, George!” He reaches a hand out to a wound in George’s side that wasn’t patched up yet, and George leans away a little. The gash was a little worse than Dream needed to know.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, Dream.” George laughs. He has grown so used to Dream’s calm confidence, it was almost funny to see him so riled up over just a couple of injuries. “I-I got it, I think. It’s not that bad.”

“ _ Not that bad?”  _ Dream huffs in disbelief. “Okay, let me in. I’m gonna help.”

“Well, if you insist,” George steps to the side, leaving a clear entryway. “it’s open.” He rolls his eyes.

“No- like-“ Dream groans and rubs his palm across his forehead. “Can I come in, George?”

George raises a brow and laughs a little. “Um...yes? You can come in, Dream.”

“Great.” He hurriedly says, and steps inside to close the door behind him. He hovers his hand over George’s arm for a moment, and their eyes meet. “Can I touch you?”

George’s tongue is caught in his throat. He knows why Dream is asking, and he wonders if the memory of last night replays in Dream’s mind on repeat like it did in his. The thought of Dream lying awake at night and reliving the moment of “Yeah, it’s okay.” It comes out as a strained whisper.

Dream smiles amicably, and carefully takes his arm to lead him into the house. The return of his touch makes George’s skin feel like it’s on fire. “Where’s your cleaning supplies?”

“It’s mostly laid out, already, I was kinda in the middle of fixing myself up when you got here.”

They walk to George’s living room couch, the room is dimly lit with some candles. Bandages, cleaning alcohol, washcloths, and bottles of water sit disorganized on the coffee table. Dream assists George in sitting down first and takes a water bottle and a cloth in his hands before sitting behind George.

“The shirt may have to come off.” Dream says awkwardly, attempting to keep his voice level.

“Wait-” George’s voice hardly comes out as a whisper, he coughs in an attempt to try to cover it up. “No- Don’t take it off, just.. Remove one sleeve. Is that okay?” 

“Of course, whatever makes you comfortable.” Dream says in a low voice, beside his ear. He was closer than George thought he was.

George’s stomach twists. He stares forward as he feels Dream’s breath by his ear. 

“Okay, okay. Hold your arms out.”

George obeys, sticking his arms straight out in front of him. Dream reaches under his arms to reach to the buttons, (only three of which were actually holding it together), and carefully undoes each one. 

“Why do you just have three of these buttoned? Aiming to impress someone?” Dream teases, a sly smile playing at his lips.

George chokes on his spit for a moment. “ _ What?  _ Why would you say that?” How was he meant to respond to that? “I just threw it on when I heard a knock at the door. It’s your fault, actually.”

“My fault…” Dream repeats flatly, slipping the shirt off of George's right shoulder, keeping the left side up carefully. “Guess it’s good I came here when I did, then.” 

“What’s  _ that  _ supposed to mean?” 

“You might’ve had something more...boring on.” 

George was really glad that he wasn’t facing Dream right now. The blush on his face would be horrifically obvious. “Boring.” George echoes. Dream wasn’t lying when he mentioned not seeing a difference between flirting with a guy rather than a girl.

Dream is quiet behind him when he slowly traces a cool finger down George’s right shoulder blade, then back up, and lingering close to the gash at the top of his shoulder. He shivers. Dream’s hand stops moving and rests close to the bleeding tear in his skin.

“Dream..?” George questions. “Are you gonna clean it?”

“Hm?” Dream’s hand pulls away. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I am.”

George would kill to know what he was thinking.

Shuffling and the sound of a water bottle cap unscrewing comes from behind him, and Dream rests a hand back on George’s right shoulder. “Um…” Dream begins. “I haven’t actually...done this. I haven’t done this before.” He admits.

  
“Wait, really?” George muses. “You’ve never cleaned a cut, like, ever?”

“Well, I  _ have _ , but it’s been a really, really long time.” His tone is a mixture of fondness and sorrow. “Just, like, tell me what I have to do or whatever.”

“Oh, well, alright.” George smiles at the knowledge that he knew something Dream didn’t. “Okay, so just take that water and hold the rag at the bottom of the wound, and slowly pour the water on top of it.” All nerves fall away from him as he explains.

“Alright, I can do that.” The soft rag rests against George’s back, and without warning, cold water splashes onto the wound.

“OW!” George yells, resisting the urge to jump off the couch.

“Oh-! Oh God, sorry!” Dream immediately pulls the water away. 

George winces at the sting, but knows the alcohol would feel a lot worse. “Oh my god, you  _ suck  _ at this.” His voice is slurred with accent.

“What?!” Dream gasps, taking great offense to the comment. “God, sorry! It’s  _ hard, _ okay?” 

“ _ ‘It’s hard _ !’” George mocks. “No it’s not, you’re just bad, Dream.” 

“Okay, well,” Dream pauses to wheeze. George smiles at hearing his dumb laugh again. “Maybe if you were less of a  _ baby _ about it, it wouldn’t be so bad, you ever consider that?”

“Well, did you ever consider that you’re weird? Like, seriously, who comes over to someone’s house at night time? Not to mention you’ve done it, like, two times now.”

“Is it so hard to believe I just want to hang out with you?” Dream asks, lifting the rag to wipe away the dried blood.

George pauses. “You want to hang out with me.” The sentence was meant as a question, but it ends up just being a blunt statement. “Huh.”

“It’s true.” Dream assures. 

George fidgets with his hands in his lap as Dream reaches for the cleaning alcohol. He hears the cap pop off as Dream wets the cloth. 

He begins to rub the wound directly, making George pull away with a sharp inhale. “Around! Clean around, please. It stings.”

“Sorry, sorry! I thought it was like water.” Dream laughs.

Dream begins to gently wipe around the wound. 

“How did you get hurt?” He asks softly, breaking the silence.

“I already said-”   
“Don’t lie.” 

George goes quiet for a moment. His heart beats fast, he can hear it in his ears.

“It was a vampire.” He says eventually, making Dream stop cleaning. 

_ “What?  _ Oh God, are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” George sighed. It was embarrassing to be taken advantage of. “I slipped up. It’s not that bad, I was taking a walk when.. When it happened.” He attempts. Dream seems to buy it. 

“I’m sorry.” He says. “Those...those things are awful. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Eh, I was kinda asking for it.” George smiles. “By walking out in the woods, I mean.” He quickly adds.

“Don’t say that, George. You didn’t deserve... _ this. _ ” Dream holds the cloth over the wound, gently applying pressure. It felt kind of nice.

George smiles. “You think so?” 

“Of course not.” The cloth pulls away, and is replaced by the textured feeling of a bandage. “I can’t imagine if- if I saw someone hurt you like this.” His voice is laced with protectiveness, and George feels safer from hearing him talk like that.

He wonders what Dream would do if he knew that George got hurt like this all the time, what lengths he would go to in order to fight off vampires to keep him safe. George entertained the thought of Dream recklessly yelling at vampires that were after George, completely ignoring his own needs to help him. He might even manage to fight some off for a bit.

“I’m glad you’re here to help, at least. I don’t usually have other people over like this, but I guess it’s not horrible.” George says, a small giggle following after. “Even if you only want to hang out at night. Which, by the way, is super weird.”

“I just think that night is the best time to get to know someone,” Dream reasons. “Um, I’m also at work during the day.”

“Oh? What do you do?”

A pregnant pause. “Butcher.” 

“Oh, that’s cool.” George says slowly. He’s not sure what he expected, but it wasn’t a butcher.

“Yup. I’m.. a butcher.”

Dream continues to carefully wrap the gauze around George’s injured shoulder, before tearing the edge with his teeth. He sticks it in place and leans back to admire his handiwork.

George turns around to face him, studying his proud expression. “Well, now time for this one.” He gestures vaguely to the flesh wound in his side.

“Ah, okay.”

George turns slightly, still facing Dream. The taller begins to clean around the wound, now slightly more experienced in first-aid. 

“You haven’t killed me yet, so that’s good, I guess.” George teases.

Dream laughs. “No, no...I couldn’t do that. I can’t believe anyone would just...want to kill you- someone like you without thinking.”

“It wouldn’t be that hard, I think.” George says. His tone becomes stale, and before he can talk himself out of it, words spill from his mouth. “Other people don’t worry about someone like me a lot. Not much to miss, because I don’t worry about anyone.” The words sit uneasily in the air.

“So...you would just…disappear?” Dream asks carefully.

_ Disappear.  _ George grits his teeth as another touch of water cools his wound. __

What a scary word. But it was true. “Yes.”

The cloth against George’s side slows in it’s cleaning around the gash. After a moment, Dream continues and takes the cloth away. George could sense how he had made the room uncomfortable with his confession, but honestly didn’t care enough to do anything about it. It was a harsh reality that he’d accepted. Every day, he would spend his time in the one place everyone said  _ not  _ to go. He honestly expected to simply vanish from existence one day, and nobody would bat an eye.

_ I wonder if Dream would care enough to come try to find me. _

George pushes the thought away, not wanting to think about the possibility of death more than he already had.

Dream suddenly speaks up. “What about, uh, Snapmap, or whatever you said?” 

George huffs. “Sapnap. And, well, I dunno. He’s an idiot, but I kinda like talking to him I guess. Keeps me sane.” It was true, Sapnap was someone he genuinely liked. He’d listened to his emotions an embarrassing amount of times, and still somehow remained so lighthearted when visiting him.

“Well, that’s  _ someone. _ ”

George smiles, and rolls his eyes. “Maybe.”

“You know who else is someone?” 

George turns his head just enough to look at Dream and raise a brow quizzically. He already knows the answer, but asks anyway. “Who?”

Dream grins at him, and rests his hand at the center of George’s back. “Depends. What am I to you?”

George pauses at the question.  _ What am I to you?  _ What was he supposed to say? A friend, maybe, but friends didn’t flirt with you. And he’s  _ definitely  _ not saying that he was a boyfriend, God no, George couldn’t even think of that. Then what...what  _ is _ Dream?

George smirks. “A mystery.” He decides.

Dream laughs and gives him a light shove as he shakes his head. “You’re an idiot.”

George mirrors his laugh. “You stick around.” 

There’s a moment of silence as Dream wraps the bandages around George’s waist, carefully orbiting his torso with the roll of gauze, going beneath his raised arms. He tears it again with his teeth and tucks the bandage in place.

“Why do you stick around, anyway?” George asks softly. 


	4. Nyctophilia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm excited about this chapter hehe
> 
> Warnings for chapter 4: detailed talk of blood, injury, swearing, burn injury
> 
> enjoy :D

_ Why do I stick around? _

Dream freezes.

It was a good question. George doesn’t really  _ give  _ him anything, and while Dream had intended to come here and just get the bite over with, now…

It wasn’t that his instincts had dropped, on the contrary, actually. His idea is simple; end the stupid attachment he has to George once he got inside with a swift bite into his skin. Easy. 

When he opened the door to see George standing casually with two bleeding injuries, it was surprising that it only made things more difficult. 

The overpowering scent of human blood rushed into his nose and sent his brain on a high that made everything else disappear. No doorway, no cool breeze from behind, no dim street lights just barely illuminating George’s pale skin. It was just George. George had stood in front of him, a desaturated grey figure, blood staining red to a vibrancy that was sickening. 

Dream’s tongue moves to speak without his intention, but it seemed his brain had other plans that opposed his heart. While every inch of his body wants to lunge forward and rip and tear and sink into all of that red, he finds he really hates something.

He hates that George is hurt. It was the same feeling he had that night when they met, when he saw the saddening haze glossing over his chocolate eyes, it sunk deep into some part of Dream that he couldn’t just brush off.

And somehow, that’s something powerful enough to keep him down.

Not by a lot, but it’s enough.

Why does he stick around? Was that it? George being hurt? Was it something about how he hated the thought of someone mistreating George when he’d done nothing wrong, but no, not just that, George is a good person. And George deserves more than just to be discarded by the world. George deserves-

_ George deserves better than that. _

“-eam?”

“What?” Dream whips his head up. His heart is in his ears.

“You know you don’t  _ have  _ to answer, you look like you’re gonna explode or something.” George giggles lightly. Dream’s face heats with embarrassment as George turns around to face him.

“Well, I don’t wanna give you an answer that…”  _ is true.  _ “...isn’t true.”

“And I don’t want you having a heart attack over deciding what to say.” George laughs slyly. “You don’t have to say. I don’t care.”

_ Thank God.  _

“So you don’t mind if I stay longer?” 

_ Why would I ask that? _

George perks up. “Of course not, you’re w-welcome in my house as long as you want.”

Dream finds himself smiling. “Thank you, George.” His voice comes out softer than intended. George smiles back, and they take a moment of just looking at each other. The corners of his eyes have a small pink tint to them, Dream notices. It made his eyes look warmer. George averts his gaze and stands, heading to the white-tiled kitchen behind the couch. He gently slips his right sleeve back onto his injured shoulder.

“Are you hungry at all?” George asks. 

“ _ God,  _ yes-” Dream immediately answers out of impulse, and nearly chokes as he stops himself. “No. I mean- no. I’m not hungry.” 

George glances at him with an amused expression. “That doesn’t  _ sound  _ like you’re not hungry.”

Dream scoffs. “I ate already. I was just...joking.” Dream didn’t know if he could handle the look on George’s face if somehow he realized that Dream’s canine teeth were a little too sharp to be human. That look of...whatever it would be, he couldn’t handle that.

_ I’m such a coward.  _ He clenches his fists. His nails prick his palm.  _ A vampire scared of what a human thinks.  _

“Alright, just tell me if you want something, mister  _ I’m not hungry.”  _ George waves his hands beside himself to emphasize his mocking before leaning down to open a cabinet. Dream decides to stand and walk into the kitchen with George.

The kitchen is tiny, but neat. A couple of pans hang against the wall and a charred rough furnace sits at the end of the room. Racks with cooking utensils hanging on the line the back wall along with some blue wash rags. Some bronze colored pots sat out by the sink. 

“What’re you having?” Dream leans his elbows over a chair by the mahogany dining table (with a blue tablecloth, he notices) as he watches George lay out a silver pot and a pre-bought bag of noodles. Dream eyes the pot bitterly.

“Nothing fancy. Just these noodles I got from the market. I eat them a lot.” George confesses. “I usually get home kind of late and don’t have time for anything else.”

“You get home late often? What’s your job, then?”

George turns on the sink faucet and watches the water fill the pot. He doesn’t bother to respond until after he turns off the water. “I make maps of the area around here. Like- the woods and...stuff.”

“Aren’t people supposed to stay out of the woods? Because of…” Dream gestures to the red seeping through the patches on George’s torso. “You know.”

“I, uh-” George clears his throat. “I have exceptions.”

“Exceptions?” Dream raises a brow. “I dunno why they’d let  _ you  _ of all people.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” George scoffs as he turns to rummage through some of the higher cabinets. “Everyone else here is stupid. Well, mostly. Sapnap’s less stupid.” 

“Am I stupid?” Dream asks. 

George slowly shuts a cabinet as he considers the question. “Stupid isn’t the right word.” 

“What is, then?”

“I dunno, reckless, maybe.” George opens another cabinet, and reaches to the top shelf towards what looks like a container of salt. His fingers brush it just barely, and Dream hears him grunt with dissatisfaction.

Dream took enjoyment in watching the human for a moment. Too short to reach for a seasoning, jumping on the tips of his shoes but only pushing the container further back, it was hilarious. Adorable, even. 

Just as he’s about to give up on reaching for the container, George lets out a shocked yelp when he feels a larger chest press to his back. Dream grabs the salt with ease and sets it on the counter, chuckling. He’s careful not to let any get on his hands. “Oh my  _ god _ , you are so short.”

George tries to retaliate, but it comes out as more of a shaky whisper. “I’m not.”

Dream takes notice of his hitched breathing, and smirks. “What’s the matter, Georgie?” He feels George shiver at the name. He places his palms flat on either side of George, effectively trapping him and leaning in close to his neck. George freezes and looks to his hands on the counter.

“Dream…” His throat burns.

Dream knows he’s pushing it, but he can’t help himself. “You smell so good right now.” His voice is raw, and his lips brush over George’s skin as he speaks.

George nervously exhales, feeling the breath on his neck send goosebumps through his whole body. “Stop fucking with me.”

Dream feels his animalistic instincts ushering him on, being this close to him, a single bite away from taking new blood, blood he had been chasing after for days now. All he has to do is bare his teeth, sink his fangs into him, and it would be over right now. He fantasized about how maybe he could finally taste it, taste that blood he’d been forced to smell in this small house for the past hour. If it smelled so good, how would the flavor be on his tongue? 

George shudders under him. 

Dream returns to a more conscious state, and blinks. George’s small body trembles slightly against him. And although every muscle in his body resists it, he takes a step back. George leans an elbow on the counter and catches his breath, obviously trying not to show how affected he was. 

Dream tugs on the edges of his sleeves. “S-Sorry...about that.”

A beat of silence. “S’okay.” George swallows, and stands up straight. He slowly grabs the container of salt off the counter and turns, gently pushing past Dream and to the furnace where his pot of noodles is. Dream recovers and turns, following him to the furnace.

George pops the cap off of the salt and begins gently shaking it over the steaming noodles. Dream knows he’s staring at George, and he knows that George knows, too. The focus George has on the pot in front of him could shatter a wine glass. His eyes delicately squint under his furrowed eyebrows, and the pink undertones on his cheekbones peek out just a little more prominently than before. 

Dream thinks it might be in his best interest to look away before he does something he’d regret.

He has to look away when George eats the noodles. It’s disgusting, Dream can’t even imagine eating things like that now. That ice cream he’d stomached for George yesterday was one of the worst things he’d ever tasted. Maybe it was the fact that he’d grown so used to blood that anything else just tasted wrong. 

“You’re sure you don’t want anything?” George asks after a while next to Dream, looking up from his bowl.

  
“Oh, yeah. Yeah, trust me. I’m just fine. Thank you though.” He says hastily. It sounds a little too defensive.

“So,” George drops his fork-  _ silver  _ fork into his now empty bowl. _ Does this guy just own silver everything? _ “Why did you come by? Before, you know.” George nods down to his clothing.

_ Shit. I didn’t prepare an excuse.  _ “I, well…”  _ You sound nervous. Play off of that.  _ “I was hoping to maybe go on another...date? But, of course we don’t have to do that. You’re hurt and- and I don’t want you to have to go out like-”

George cuts him off with a mischievous snicker.

“What? What is it?” Dream feels like he was betraying his own personality to let himself stoop to a level of being  _ nervous _ to talk to George. Why was he nervous?

George shook his head and smiled to himself. “It’s nothing, just…” His eyes met Dream’s. They break him. “What happened to the Dream I met in town square?”

He rolls his eyes, breaking the contact. “Nothing  _ happened.” _

“You sure?” Dream wants to wipe the stupid grin off of George’s face. “You were so much more sure of yourself before. What changed?”

“Nothing changed. Trust me.” Dream leans over the table so that only a few inches are left between their faces. He knows he could talk this close without worry of being discovered, since he had dulled his fangs before he came to George’s house. “I’m just going easy on you.”

George’s Adam’s apple shifts as he swallows. “Going easy,” George echoes. “What makes you think I want that?” His voice is low, words weaving in and out of Dream’s own thoughts like a venomous snake that couldn’t bite. 

Possibilities trickle down Dream’s spine dangerously. He holds George’s chin firmly in his hand to tilt up to his eye level. George suddenly pales, seemingly regretting his boldness as he averts his gaze.

“There’s nobody else here.” Dream drawls. “I’m gonna do you a favor and pretend like you didn’t just say that.” 

The look on George’s face is priceless. That’s all he needs. 

Dream pulls his hand away and takes George’s bowl to the sink, careful to avoid touching the silverware inside. 

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” George suddenly blurts out.

Dream turns to him, shocked. “Really?” 

_ You know you couldn’t handle that. You’ll lose it before morning.  _

“I...I’d love to. But-”

“Yeah. Cool.” George sputters out as he stands. “Is it alright if you sleep on the couch? I uh- I only have my bed.”

Dream chuckles. “You’re offering to let me stay over when you only have one bed?”

George groans. “Do you want to stay or not?” 

“Yeah, yeah, the couch is great. I’d love to stay over, George.” He smiles fondly at George. George scoffs and walks to a nearby closet. He rummages around before emerging from it with an armful of blankets and pillows.

“Here.” George says coldly, and drops it without warning onto Dream. Dream doesn’t struggle to hold it at all, though. 

  
Dream walks to the couch and splays all the blankets over it. “Such hospitality, you’d make a great housewife.” He tries to hide the laugh towards the end of his joke, but fails.

“ _ Housewife?”  _ George does a full turn around by his bedroom door to look at him with an exasperated face. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Dream wheezes. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just-” He settles a fit of giggles in his throat. “You offered to cook me something, and then you gave me stuff for sleeping…”

George huffs. “If you’re going to make fun of me you’re more than welcome to go home.” 

“No, no! Sorry I’ll be good, I’ll be good.” Dream gives him an innocent smile. “You’re too handsome to be a housewife, anyways.”

George blushes and glares at him as he tries to bite back a smile. “You’re not funny.”

“Oh, I’m  _ completely  _ serious, George.”

George rolls his eyes, “Do you need a change?” 

“No, I’m fine sleeping in this. But thanks.”

George nods and closes his bedroom door behind him.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and trudges into the bathroom to wash up for bed.

He’s just finished dressing when Dream knocks on his bedroom door. He walks over and opens it, meeting the eyes of the blonde. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to say thank you again for.. Letting me stay over and stuff. I appreciate it.”

“Of course, Dream. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want you here.”

“You want me?” He asks, eyebrows raised.   
“Stop.” George says, despite his small smile. 

The two of them walk into the living room, where Dream has carelessly strewn the pillows and sheets onto the couch. Looks more like a nest than anything.

“Wake me up if you need anything.” George says, even though he knows he’ll be pissed if he’s woken up.

“Okay. Goodnight, George.”

“Goodnight.”

George walks back to his room, turning briefly to see Dream close all his curtains and flop onto the couch. He closes his bedroom door and lies down, the sheets inviting him to a restful sleep. The knowledge of Dream staying in his house for the night was strange, but strangely comforting. It felt safer.

\----

George awakes with his pillow under his head more sleep-inducing than usual. It was a change from how he usually woke up. He groggily pulls himself out of bed, and washes up for the day. 

_ Sun’s already up.  _ He notices through the blinds of his beside window. He groans at letting himself oversleep.

His mind is half-conscious as he scrubs his teeth and combs his hair for just a few seconds, like usual. Same thing once again, get an early head start, set traps in the woods before vampires notice. 

Once he’s changed, he emerges into the living room. His heart leaps for a moment, spotting someone laying on the couch with their feet hanging over the edge and limbs spread unnecessarily, before he remembered he let Dream stay over. He relaxed, letting out a soft exhale and stepping in front of the sofa. 

He took the opportunity to admire a still-sleeping Dream, messy and tousled hair falling into his eyes. Tiny rosy freckles are scattered all along the bridge of his nose, fading out into his cheeks. His complexion is nearly flawless, to George.

He steps a little closer to Dream’s sleeping figure, and can hear his soft breath. His skin was a warm color between peach and sand, and the faint speckles across it like the rocks of a beach. George wonders how it would feel to touch. He blinks, knowing that would be embarrassing as hell if Dream were to wake up.

George turns to open the curtains and light up the room with some sun. He grabs the hem of the curtain before he feels a hand on his, gently stopping him from pulling them open. His heart leaps into his throat as he flinches back.

“Dream!” He spins around to face the taller, who’s standing alarmingly close.

“Sorry,” He laughed softly, voice still heavy with fatigue. It’s cute. “G’morning.”

“Ugh, you scared me. How’d you sleep?”

“Well.” Dream replies simply. His face was relaxed, lacking the obnoxious twinge it usually had. George wondered if he was always like this in the morning, but quickly shoos away the domestic thought. 

George smiles fondly, allowing himself to buy into Dream’s current mood. “I’m glad.” 

Dream rubs his eyes with one hand, walking away and disappearing into the kitchen. George follows soon after opening the curtains.

Dream sits at the table in the shade, as George begins to open a few blinds in the kitchen and then heads to his pantry. George doesn’t notice the way he avoids the sunlight like the plague. 

Dream leans an elbow onto the kitchen table as if he owned it. “So, babe,” George’s fingers clench ever so slightly more around the pantry doorknob.  _ Nope, he’s still obnoxious as hell.  _ “What’re we doing today?”

George forces himself to take a normal breath. “What...we? And don’t...w-why did you call me that?” He turns to Dream and makes a noise between a laugh and an exhale. 

“Oh, come on. I know you like it.” Dream has a growing smile on his face, his eyes still half-lidded from sleep. George has to swallow the words in his mouth that he couldn’t afford to speak out loud. 

“Well…” His face feels too warm to think. It’s not that he  _ doesn’t  _ like those things, it’s just…

George giggles to himself as he turns back to the pantry. “Maybe you should say things like that...more often.” He regrets the words immediately as they leave his tongue. 

Dream perks up, the tired glaze in his eyes are replaced with newfound interest. 

“Is that so?” Dream asks with a frustratingly cocky tone. 

George rolls his eyes, though smiling, and grabs some bread jelly for a quick breakfast. 

“Whatever makes you happy, Dream.” George’s lack of concentration shows in his badly made toast.

Dream doesn’t respond but he smiles to himself, tracing lines into the wooden table with his fingernail. 

George takes a pot off it’s hook on the kitchen wall, filling it with water and setting it down on the heat. 

“Want some tea?”

“No, thanks.”

While waiting for the water to boil, George walks out of the kitchen to pack his bag. He packs an array of weapons and tools-- a net, wooden stakes, a musket loaded with silver bullets, and a small pouch of salt. He carefully places metals next to softer items so that it doesn’t make too much noise. He’s just tying the bag closed when he hears a loud hissing sound from the kitchen, accompanied with a yelp.

In an instant, he’s in the doorway. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Dream was clutching his forearm, nodding. “I’m fine, just.. Burned my arm.”

George didn’t question why he wasn’t near the pot. “Dream. Be more careful, please.”

“I’m sorry.” Dream says, voice small and apologetic. 

He quickly retrieves a small container of honey and a rag soaked with cold water then sets the pot on the table.

“Can I?”

Dream nods and offers his arm to George, who gently takes it into his tender hands. He applies the cold water to the wound, then spreads a thin layer of honey on the skin. He can feel Dream’s eyes on him while he works at the burn, but he doesn’t want to look up and check in case they lock eyes. Dream doesn’t lower his gaze.

George takes the boiling water from the pot and pours it into a mug, dropping in a handmade tea bag. He sits down next to Dream to drink the tea.

“Aren’t you hungry?” George asks, after a few minutes.

“Huh? Oh. Um..” He thinks, for a moment. “I’m okay. Thanks.”

“Are you sure?” George’s voice softens. 

Dream nods, seemingly more confident now.

“Okay. Well, I’m going to work, for the day.. You’re free to stay here while I’m out, make yourself at home. The market has plenty of food if nothing here suits you. You’re sure you don’t need anything to eat now..?”

“Mhm. Thank you, again. I hope you have a good day at work.” Dream eyes him, expression unreadable and almost unsettlingly blank.

“Thanks. I’ll be back by evenfall.” George offers a smile, before walking out into the room by the front door. He shoulders his bag and steps out of the house with his gear.

\----

George sighs in exhaustion as he locks the door behind him. 

“Thank god.” He breathes to himself. It hadn’t been a very successful day of hunting, he’d only spotted two vampires and caught none. They were getting smarter, word of a vampire hunter in the Anderrige woods definitely had to be common knowledge to vampires by this point. It made it a hell of a lot more difficult to keep up with their tricks.

He unties his boots’ laces and sets them neatly by the doorway and sets his battered jacket on the coat rack as he makes his way into his house, already looking forward to a good night of rest.

_ Wonder what Dream has been up to while I was gone.  _ George ponders, and considers that Dream probably would be gone by now, anyways. Who would stay in someone’s house alone for a whole day with nothing to do?

He turns the corner into his living room, and stops in his tracks.

There was an amalgamation of blankets, curtains, chairs, a table and a couch all thrown together into some form of what looked like...honestly, it looked like an enormous blanket fort for children.

“What the f-”

“GEORGE!” Dream’s voice rang excitedly, and George looked over as he shuffled out from under a hanging quilt. His eyes are full of joy. “You’re back, finally! I was getting bored.”

“What the hell did you  _ do?!”  _ George sputters. “M-My breakfast table! My extra blankets, wha- you covered my windows in my spare bed sheets!”

“It was too bright! You said to make myself at home.”

“I didn’t mean to  _ tear apart the place,  _ bloody hell!”

“I didn’t  _ tear apart the place,  _ calm down.” Dream rolls his eyes and smiles. “Come in, it’s roomy!” Dream sits up only for his head to push against a blanket above him. It definitely wasn’t big enough for him.

“Oh my god- no! I have to clean this up, it’s everywhere, the couch is on the wrong side of the room, there’s chairs upside down-”

“George, George, hey,” George stops in his ramblings at hearing his name so softly. He forgot how Dream sounded when he said it. “Stop thinking about later, calm down. Come sit.” He pats a place on the rug next to him.

George squints at him critically, but sighs in defeat. His cheeks tingle with embarrassment as he crouches down and crawls under the quilt to sit next to Dream with his knees to his chest.

“Well? What do you think?”

George makes eye contact with him. Even after just a day of not seeing Dream, it was easy to forget how soft his face looked despite his rather intimidating presence. “This is childish.” George snickers as Dream pushes him lightly on the shoulder.

“Aww, I’m sad now. You’re so mean, George.” Dream whines sarcastically.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re lucky I’m too tired to clean all this up now.”

“Busy day, huh?” Dream asks as he leans a little closer. This fort was way too small for the both of them. “You didn’t get hurt again, did you?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” George raises his hands defensively. “Just a boring day, I suppose.”

“Okay, good, good. Boring is better than scary and dangerous.”

_ Scary and dangerous is the story of my life.  _ “I guess it is.” George responds, grabbing a cushion and tucking it under his chin, wrapping his arms around it. He sighs, closing his eyes. “Long day, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, maybe you can stay for a few minutes.” Dream says, draping a small woolen blanket across their laps.

“I mean, I guess so.” George says, the sentence fading into a whisper. He’s already falling asleep to the sound of Dream’s voice.

Dream takes hold of one of his hands, immediately bringing George back to full consciousness, pink spreading across his face like wildfire. “Make any new maps?” He asks quietly.

“Yeah, up north.” George breathes, refusing to make eye contact. He let his eyes drift to their intertwined hands.

“Sounds nice.” Dream says. “We should go sometime.”

“Maybe.”

There’s a period of silence, but it’s comfortable. It reminds George of when they danced together during their first encounter. He fights the urge to lay across Dream’s lap and fall asleep right then and there. 

He closes his eyes once again and lets the music fabricated in his mind drift and dance around his myriad thoughts. Despite being such an idiot, Dream had an aura about him that made him want to throw all his hesitance away and just hold onto him for dear life. But the response would almost certainly be mockery. And even if it was joking, George knew it would hurt him too much to let go of.

“I um.. I guess I should head to bed now. It’s been a long day, if you don’t mind.” George smiles, letting go of Dream’s hand. He immediately misses the warmth. He crawls out from under the fort, smiling.

“Aww, you’re not gonna sleep in here with me?” Dream pouts, wrapping the wool blanket around his torso.

George misses a breath. “Oh- n-no. No, I’m not doing that. I’ll stick to my bed, thanks.”

“Okayyy, fine.” Dream says. “A-And I can clean this all up if you want.”

“Don’t bother.” George stands. “If it makes you comfortable, then why not.”

“Really?” Dream looks up at him like an excited dog. It was stupidly adorable. “Thanks, George.”

“Sure thing. If you’re going to be staying for a bit, I suppose I should get used to it.”  _ I just implied that he’s going to stay here for longer. I’m gonna drive myself crazy if I have to deal with his...whatever he does to me every day. _

“Goodnight, George.” Dream gives him another big grin before standing up to plop himself down on the couch at the edge of the fort. His eyes were already shut.

“G’night.” George says softly. A little too soft, way more than he intended for it to come out. 

He walks over to his bedroom, drowsily changes into his sleep clothes, and falls asleep the moment his head hits the pillow.

\----

Dream’s eyelids pry open to faint moonlight beams cascading across a wood boarded ceiling. His body aches with an emptiness, similar to the feeling of being stuck under a pile of sand and unable to reach the nearest water. The couch registers under his touch as he blinks himself more awake, the texture is slightly itchy and plush as he curls his fingers into lazy fists. His thoughts are mere concepts that stumble around in his head, and are unable to make any fraction of a complete thought. The silent air around him feels unusual with the absence of rustling leaves and noisy tree creatures.

His stomach suddenly twists and aches unlike he’d ever felt before, and begging him to stand. He groans as he rolls on his side, making the couch creak slightly while holds himself in an enclosed huddle.

_ Hungry. Fuck, I’m so, so hungry. _

His stomach growls audibly. The familiar rush of adrenaline spreads through his body, forcing him awake. Before he even realizes it, he’s standing up and shambling away from the couch. He hadn’t eaten properly in days, it was really catching up with his body now. The soft shuffle of his feet over the carpet hardly reaches his awareness as he lifts his head upwards. His arms cross into each other and leave him hunched over, holding his aching body. His body feels so empty that it feels as if a simple flick could make him stumble over.

His vision becomes a mixture of a starved blur and drowsiness. He inhales for a few long seconds through his nose. He smells it.

_ Blood. _ It’s close. So close, in the same house, even. Without a thought, his body makes its way towards the sweet smell. His mouth waters. It had been so long,  _ too _ long, without any blood to drink.

The saccharine scent grows stronger as he pushes open a doorway, and his overly focused pupils land at a bed against the wall of the room. All memories and experiences from Dream’s life become irrelevant in the face of his impulses. He walks to the edge of the bed. 

Though Dream recognizes George laying under the sheets, who was now shifting back and forth due to the emitting moonlight from the open doorway, it doesn’t reach his conscious mind. 

The bed dips slightly as Dream sits down on its edge, continuing to keep his eyes fixed on George. His deep brown locks splay out onto the pillow scarcely by his forehead, his cotton white pajama shirt exposes some of his collarbone, and his skin looks smooth and soft. Perfectly open for fangs.

George’s eyes flutter open. After a few blinks, his eyes suddenly look fully awake.

“Dream?” George mumbles in confusion. “I-I thought I told you that I’m not sleeping in that fort with you.” Dream doesn’t hear much more than some incomprehensible syllables.

“C’mere.” Dream murmurs. George’s eyes widen as Dream leans onto his bed to lay next to him and wrap his arms around his torso. 

George sputters. “Wh-what are you-”

Dream pulls George’s chest to his own, and buries his face into George’s neck. He was right; his skin is soft.

“Dr-Dream, what…?” Dream can feel the human’s quick heart rate thump in his ribcage. 

Dream can smell the blood under his nose, under George’s skin. His grip tightens on George’s shirt as the heavenly smell of human blood fills his lungs. His core intention urges him to bite down.

His lips part over George’s neck, and he allows himself to hover over his skin with shallow breaths that make George melt more into his hold.

“Okay...okay.” George exhales a light giggle. “Are you- can I-”

“Mine.” Dream mumbles into George’s neck. George swallows. Dream can feel the blood rushing to his face, causing him to become warmer.

Dream lays unmoving for a moment.

The smell of blood overpowers all of his senses and drown him in starvation. He allows his teeth to peek out between his lips. 

And then, there’s a gentle touch at the nape of his neck. He stops.

The fingers are timid and delicate as they pause for a moment, then brush upwards into his hair, and begin lightly combing it back and forth.

Dream closes his mouth. He finds himself feeling hot.

The combing stops. “Sorry.” George mutters.

“No,” Dream replies. With a weird combination of subconscious and instinct, he wraps his legs around George’s and pulls him so that there is no space between their bodies anymore. He’s too slumbersome to acknowledge any of his actions, and whether his intentions are his own or not. “Mine.”

The silence becomes deafening for a few, tense seconds.

Then, arms wrap around him in return. They hold around his broad back tentatively, but somehow self-assured as well.

The beast in Dream’s ribcage settles, and is no longer clawing around for a scrap of food. Instead, he allows himself to trail a hand up and down George’s back. He feels the human’s shoulder blades relax.

As Dream feels arms pull him closer, his subconscious begins to fade into his waking mind.

George’s soft, fluffy, dark hair under his fingers, the beating of a heart that felt miniscule against his own slow heart rate, and the chin ducking into his hair all became all too real to Dream at once.

_ What. The. Hell.  _

His tongue feels stale in his mouth as he feels the need to explain himself, but just as he’s about to speak up, a tender hand reaches to his bicep, trailing over it. The fingertips were warm. And now, Dream felt warm, too.

_ I’m laying in the same bed with a human. With  _ George.

Dream scolds himself for the heat growing on his face and ears.  _ What has my life come to? _

George’s arms were more toned than Dream had expected. His delicate fingers in his hair were so gentle, but firm. His breath was shallow, almost as if he was afraid of breathing too heavily to ruin the moment.

_ Maybe I should leave. I could just lose it if I wake up again, and I’ll bite him. I almost just did.  _

_ I don’t deserve to be this close to him.  _

George’s breaths became deeper, and the hand around Dream’s back fell limp over him. 

_ But maybe… _

_ Maybe I can do this just once. I can let myself have whatever this is. _


	5. The Book of Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey there! i hope everyone's enjoying the story :D just wanted to let you guys know that we're in the process of writing the book so this is about as far as we got with complete chapters. its possible we wont be posting a chapter next week, and possibly the week after that. we want to make sure each chapter is refined so its gonna take some time, please bare with us! anyway, leave comments if you want! I love reading them >:) this is a pretty long chapter
> 
> Warnings for chapter 5: swearing, arguing, brief mention of torture
> 
> enjoy :D

Dream’s body is heavy with comfort when he drifts into some semblance of awakeness. The cool sheets of George’s mattress welcome him, and before he can question why he’s not on the couch, the thought hits him.  _ Oh right.  _ Dream looks down at his own hands, afraid of what they could’ve done if he hadn’t kept enough control last night.  _ That happened.  _

The cozy little bedroom is warm thanks to good insulation, and it’s certainly welcomed to Dream, who was so used to sleeping in the cold, windy, or muddy forest, the only protection from the elements being his attempts at houses in high tree branches. It didn’t do much.

Falling asleep next to someone was a nice change, too. Even if it was for a bad reason. 

_ George.  _ Dream whips his body to a sitting up position as he notices the vacant bed.  _ Did he leave?  _ He runs a hand over the space where he remembered the human laying before, and it still radiated lightly with warmth. He must’ve recently gotten up. He wouldn’t leave, right?

A clink of dishes against a counter sounds from the house. Dream sighs with relief.  _ Okay. He’s still here.  _

Now the problem is - how is he going to explain all of last night away? If George is still here, he must not look too obvious yet to be hungry, he should still have his normal pupils at least for the time being. That would take a  _ long  _ time of not eating to happen.

Dream tries to ignore the clenching of his stomach at the thought of food again.  _ I’m gonna need to do something about that eventually. _

But right now, he has to decide on how to approach George. Dream had indirectly done himself a huge favor by being naturally flirty, even if it was a little harder to keep it up now that George must be getting suspicious. He could easily explain away his clinginess as flirting, yeah, George didn’t have to know. He’d believe that. If he didn’t, well…

Dream doesn’t want to consider the thought.

He crawls out of bed and walks into the hall, entering the living room, lingering a hand over the door frame as he passes it.

He walks behind the couch, where George is seated with a leather notebook in hand. His hair sticks up just above the back cushion.

“Boo.”

George flinches, and turns to face him. He cracks a smile, turning back around and setting the notebook on the coffee table. “Oh. Good morning.” His tone is more pleasant than Dream expected. That was a good sign.

“Good morning.” Dream says, leaning back against the counter. 

“You were cuddly last night.” George says calmly, his back still turned away from Dream.

Dream’s tongue is caught in his throat. “Sorry about that.” He laughs a little in an attempt to mask his fear.  _ Is his calmness sourcing from accusation, or confidence? _

“I didn’t move away.” George smiles mischievously back at him. “You seemed to like that.”

Dream’s face was on fire.  _ It’s definitely confidence. _ “I- yeah.” George was probably the only human in the world that could make him feel like  _ he  _ was the prey. He hates the times when George knows the effect he has on him. Dream isn’t sure how he feels about being vulnerable to a human like that. “Did you like it?”

George stands. “If I didn’t, I would have left.”

Curiosity trickles down Dream’s spine. “So you do like me, then?”

George pauses, and grins. “I like you more than other people.”

“Is that so?”   
“Don’t push your luck, idiot.”

Dream chuckles. George is all talk until someone talks back. It’s hilarious.

George starts to take ingredients out of his cabinet, setting them on the counter. “Want some breakfast?”

  
Dream swallows. “I, um..”

  
Dream grits his teeth at the thought of having to stomach another human meal. But he’s  _ starving _ , he knows George will question how he hasn’t eaten in numerous days. He needs to get food in his system.

_ Maybe it won’t be so bad. _

“Yeah, sure.”

“You’ll need to eat well if you wanna get big and strong, you know. Didn’t your mom ever teach you that?”   
“I’m already big and strong. And.. no.” Dream says, with an uncomfortable laugh. 

George doesn’t seem to notice, as he lays out some popcorn kernels and a tall bottle of milk on the counter along with some silverware and ceramic bowls. It looks like he’s done it a million times. “Is popcorn cereal okay?”

“...Y-Yeah, that sounds great.” Dream says, nodding slightly. He actually did know what popcorn cereal was, though it was a far off and faint memory. 

One full of compassion and unreachable safety he’d never feel again.

_ How am I going to eat without silverware? I’ll get burned. _

“Great.” George takes a bronze pot off the wall and begins to meticulously prepare the popcorn. Dream enjoys watching him work, leaning to rest his head on his fist. Though it was a rather simple meal he was making, it was a skill nonetheless. Dream hadn’t learned to cook much, for obvious reasons, so seeing the extent humans would go to just to prepare a breakfast was fascinating to him. So much effort for so little satisfaction.

“You can help you now.” George rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance.

“Oh, right.” Dream smiles sheepishly, standing to help make the popcorn.

They pour the oil in the pot, dumping the kernels into it. George takes the lid off the wall and places it on top with a sigh. “Should be a few minutes.”

He leans against the counter beside Dream, crossing his arms. The blonde snickers, looking down on the top of George’s head. Did he comb it every morning?

George feels the stare on him and locks his eyes skeptically with him.“What?”   
“Nothing, you’re just short.”   
“Ugh, not this again.” George drags his palm down his face with an annoyed eye roll. 

Dream places a large but gentle hand on top of the other’s head, running two fingers through his hair. George stops before he can get out another annoyed comment, breathing softly. His tensed face relaxes, his eyebrows raise slightly as all annoyance seems to fade away. Dream swears he feels George lean into the touch of his hand the slightest bit. It’s so subtle he’s not sure if he imagined it or not.

He lifts his hand, and the moment is gone as quickly as it arrived. Dream blinks rapidly.  _ Did he enjoy that?  _ George looks to his tiled floor, and is very obviously avoiding looking up. Dream can’t help the light giggle that bubbles in his throat. George looks up again.

“ _What?_ What is with you?” George says with his own subtle laugh.

“You’re- you’re like a cat or something.”

“What? How?”

Dream rests his hand on George’s hair again, and ruffles it a little. George smiles nervously and even dips his head a little, before swatting his hand away. 

“Don’t do that!”

“I told you! You might as well have, like, purred or something-”

George rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to the pot. “You’re imagining things.”

“Fine, fine, I’m so sorry that you like when I touch your hair.”

George kicks him in the leg. It doesn’t hurt, but he pretends it does anyways. 

Within a few minutes, the popcorn is finished. George removes the lid and lets the steam out of the pot. Dream takes a seat at the mahogany breakfast table he’d grown familiar with, and George sets two bowls out for the both of them. George digs in immediately, but Dream, of course, hesitates.

The fluffy, yet firm popcorn sits in the bowl in front of him as if it were taunting him. His stomach growls again. Dream flicks his eyes back up at George, who was still eating from his own bowl without paying much attention.  _ His blood would taste so much better than this. If only I had the guts to do it.  _

He sighs, and picks up a single popped kernel between his index and thumb fingers.  _ Maybe it won’t be that bad? Better than nothing, I guess.  _

Dream caves, and places it in his mouth. He chews once.  _ It’s not...that bad?  _ He chews again, and the flavor spreads on his tongue. He gags. 

_ Nevermind.  _

Dream’s eyes look up from his bowl and across the table, where George had a hand over his mouth as if he was trying not to laugh at him.  _ Shit. He’s looking.  _ Dream tightens his lips, and forces himself to swallow the popcorn. He shivers.

And George bursts out in laughter.

Dream holds his hands out beside himself defensively. “What?”

George smacks a hand on the table in his fit of giggles. “You looked like- hah! You looked like you were going to throw up or something.” 

“I-” Dream stammers. “Sorry? Actually- no how the hell do you eat this shit?!”

“Do you really not like it? You’re totally overreacting.” George rolled his eyes. “It’s just popcorn and milk.”

“It’s fucking  _ gross  _ is what it is.”

“Maybe if you used your silverware like a normal person instead of picking it up with your hands-”

“I like it better that way!” Dream says defensively. “Spoons were a stupid invention. One more thing to clean along with your bowl.”

Dream leans back into his chair a little more as George stands to open the curtains by the table. Golden light spills over the tiles and part of the table. Dream opens his mouth to protest, but immediately closes his mouth realizing it’d make himself more suspicious than he already was. He scoots away from the sunshine.

“You sure you don’t want anything? You must be hungry- actually, did you even have dinner last night?” George asks as he takes his and Dream’s dishes to the sink. 

“Yeah,” Dream lies. “I had a really big dinner last night. At the butcher shop, we- we were given a big dinner after I worked some. So I’m still good, no need to worry.” 

“If you say so,” George shrugs.  _ Thank God he believes me. _

“Don’t you need to work today, too?” Dream stands, and takes a quick path around the rectangle of light on the floor to sit on the arm of the couch in the living room. 

George thinks for a moment before responding. “I kind of, like, work on my own schedule you could say. I was gonna take the day off and just work a little from home if that’s fine with you.”

Dream smiles, and watches George place the now cleaned dishes back into their respective wooden cabinets. 

“Couldn’t get enough of me after last night, huh?”

“You-” George whips to face him with an angry look. Dream starts laughing hysterically and falls back onto the couch with a thump. After he calms his giggles enough he hears George mutter “-not funny.”

Dream sits up properly and turns to watch as George pulls some large papers out of a 

bag, presumably his maps from work. “It’s a little funny.”

“You don’t have to rub it in, you know.” George slaps a map onto the table harshly. “Sorry I can’t just fuck around and brush it all off afterwards like you do.”

Dream’s smile disappears.  _ Oh. That’s what he thinks of it- ugh, of course he does. I should’ve known he would blame himself.  _

“George,” Dream’s voice is soft, but stern. George looks up hesitantly. His eyes have that same sorrow Dream had become so familiar with, even with the sun illuminating his face in a honey color and making his eyes glitter, they’re dark with something that Dream wishes he could just get rid of. He hates the thought of something burdening George. What could George have ever done to deserve anything bad in his life? Who the hell could hurt someone so innocent? “I didn’t mean it like that, honest.” He finishes.

The stress lines on George’s face soften. “But you do mean it like that. Even if you don’t mean for it to.” 

“What? What do you mean?”  _ I haven’t hurt him somehow, have I? _

“Why would you do that last night, Dream?” George asks, voice waving between shyness and frustration. “I can’t tell if you- if you like me or if you hate me. Please just tell me, which one is it?”

Dream is shocked into silence.  _ He thinks I hate him. What the fuck have I done?  _ “George, oh my god, I do  _ not  _ hate you-”

“Then how do you feel?” George’s voice wavers slightly. He places both hands on the table as he leans over it. “Are you just toying with me? You think it’s funny to see me get red because of a guy? We could get in trouble for whatever this is, you know.” 

“No- oh my god, George listen! Listen to me!” Dream raises his voice slightly, which seems to catch George’s attention. Dream lets the gentleness return to his tone. “I would  _ never  _ do that to you, okay? That’s not- that’s horrible. I wouldn’t do that. I swear.”

George looks down. He slowly sits down in the chair beside him. “But you don’t like me, do you?” He says monotonously.

Dream freezes.  _ Like? Of course I like him. But someone as put together and thoughtful as George being into me,  _ actually  _ into me, that’s… _

George is a human.

_ And I’m a vampire. _

_ That relationship sounds like it’d be torture. _

Dream finally sighs, not wanting to give the answer he knows George is anticipating. “I-I  _ do  _ like you George, I-”

_ Knock knock. _

Their conversation is interrupted at possibly the most inconvenient time possible. Dream stands in an effort to not let their talk go unfinished, but George walks towards the front door before Dream can stop him. “I’ll get it.” He says emptily. It hurts to hear the pain behind it. The universe really had it out for Dream, didn’t it?

The person that George opens the door to is a tan ravenette, slightly taller than George, and is dressed in what appears to be roughed-up work clothes, including a black and white flannel shirt and grey cargo pants. He smiles at George as he welcomes himself in. “George! My man.”

Dream grimaces at the change in tone that the man was unaware of. It was a little relieving, though. At least he was saved from having to explain himself any further. Dream walks up enough to make his presence known and meets eyes with George. 

“Who-”

“Sap, meet Dream. He’s been, uh, staying here for a bit.” George’s words get more like a whisper towards the end of his sentence.

Sapnap makes an overly dramatic shocked expression, jaw dropped and all. “Dude. No. Way.” He immediately walks up to Dream and takes a hand in both of his with a firm shake, catching him a bit off guard. “ _ The  _ Dream? Oh my god, George wasn’t kidding about how damn hot you are.”

“ _ Sapnap! _ ” George fumes. 

Dream’s shocked, but he chuckles and covers his smile with a hand as George pulls Sapnap away from him. Even with the lingering tensity in the air, Dream can’t help himself but to tease George. “Really? Wowww, George.”

“Don’t say a word, idiot.” George scolds. “I’m gonna go get my southeast forest map, don’t say any more dumb shit.”

“Whatever you say, Gogy.” Sapnap scoffs. 

Sapnap was a character for sure. Obviously the jokester type, but not in a bad way that Dream would normally find annoying. His stature was more similar to Dream’s, the lack of height made up for with broad shoulders. His clothes looked worn with use, and the smell of lumber radiated from them familiarly. Dream was pleased that there was no scent of burnt wood on him. Forest fires are horrible to be stuck in the middle of.

“Nice to meet you, man.” Sapnap says once George disappears into another room. His tone is much more friendly rather than sarcastic like when he first came in. “You’re a lot taller than I expected.”

“Yeah?” Dream huffs lightly, analyzing the difference between their heights. It’s about the same as him and George’s. “Well, I hope that’s not a bad thing.”

“No,” Sapnap shrugs. “But George’s neck must hurt though from looking up so much. Of course he’d make friends with a giant of all people.”

“I’m not a giant,” Dream chuckles, eased by the inviting friendly banter Sapnap provides. “Everyone else is just a midget.”

Sapnap furrows his brows with an evil smirk. “Could a midget do this?” 

Before Dream has a chance to even process the sentence, a finger flicks him on the forehead hard enough to even hurt  _ him  _ a little bit. 

“Hey!” Dream yells. Sapnap laughs mischievously, and runs to the table with a map and utensils already laid out. Dream laughs and plays along with the dumb chase, even if he was genuinely a little annoyed that a human just flicked him in the head like he was just someone to be fooled with. He stumbles to a stop before he runs right into a window’s stream of light, and thankfully Sapnap is too busy with hiding under the table to notice. 

“What the hell did I just say?” George asks exasperatedly. Dream turns to see George walking up to them with a large beige sheet rolled under one of his arms and an inking pen and cartridge in the other hand. “Why is he- Sapnap why are you under the table?”

“He started it!’ Dream immediately accuses, pointing a finger at the defensive ravenet, who was now crawling out of his hiding spot. 

“He called me short!” Sapnap whines.

George blinks hard, and runs a slow hand from his temple and into his hair with a groan. “I don’t care, just- oh my god.” Both Dream and Sapnap giggle like children at George’s mumblings, as Sapnap crawls out from under the table. Sapnap even nudges Dream to offer him a fist bump, a fucking  _ fist bump.  _ Who does that?

He gives Sapnap a fist bump.

George pushes past the laughing pair unapologetically and lays the new map over the one from earlier, and holds the edges down using some thick books that rested on the kitchen shelf.

“Okay, Sapnap you’ve been in this area, right?” George lays a hand at the top of the map. But Sapnap is still distracted and is having some sort of finger fight with Dream on the table’s edge. George swats at his hand. “Sapnap.” 

“What?” Sapnap groans. Dream takes the opportunity to jab a finger at Sapnap’s palm, which results in their dumb game devolving back into childish flicking and each other’s hands. They both laugh uncontrollably, and George groans.

“Guys!” George raises his voice a little louder than he meant to, and causes the other two to stop their banter immediately and look at him. After a couple seconds of shocked silence, Sapnap snickers.

“Shh, you’re so  _ loud. _ ” Sapnap pouts.

“I’ve never heard you that loud before.” Dream muses. “Maybe I should fight with people more often.” Sapnap shoves him lightly in the shoulder at that.

George rolls his eyes and points to the same place on the map. “Sap. I need your help mapping this area.”

  
Sapnap actually settles down, and takes a considering look at the carefully drawn outlines of tree masses and bodies of water. The whole map was rather impressive, if Dream was honest. He recognized many of the areas roughly, though some parts of the woods that were drawn out he tended to avoid due to the tendency for large masses of people to roam, which was always bad news for a lone vampire. He’d come away from the areas with scars once, and had learned his lesson since. 

\---- 

An hour or so passes. The mapmaking process seems to bore Dream pretty quickly, so he opts to bother the pair while they try to work, which George isn’t a fan of. Sapnap doesn’t seem to have a problem with it, often getting sidetracked and conversing with Dream. 

He appears to zone out a little at one point, having sat down next to George to watch. 

Sapnap traces a small circle on the paper, “Here’s where the lake should go.”   
  
“Shouldn’t it be closer to these trees?” Dream chimes in suddenly, pointing at a section of the map.

“No, no, that’s over here. Look.” Sapnap points to a place a few inches away from where Dream was pointing. “The lake is farther than that.”

“What makes you so sure?” Dream challenges.  _ As if a human knows the forest better than a vampire, what a joke. _

“Uh, I’ve lived here my  _ whole life,  _ aren’t you new?” Sapnap asks.

Dream considers a couple responses. “I...get around.”

Sapnap chuckles and casually places a hand on Dream’s bicep. “Yeah, with arms like that I’m sure you get around plenty.” They make eye contact, and the look on Sapnap’s face is so overdramatically flirtatious that Dream scrunches his nose up at it, but finds that he smiles at it, too. Maybe it was a  _ little  _ funny. Sapnap muffles a chuckle, and then they both burst out into hysterical laughter. 

“Sapna- oh my-” George grumbles, swatting him on the shoulder lightly causing his raven haired friend to hold his arm in mock-hurt. 

“ _ What? _ ” Sapnap whines. “You know I’m kiddin’ around, Gogy.”

George doesn’t grace him with a glance upwards. “Don’t call me that.”

Dream manages to open his eyes in the midst of his laughter. “Oh please, as if you’d have a chance with  _ me,  _ Sap.” 

Dream notices George’s gaze flickers up to watch him as he speaks. He guesses his nonchalance got the brunet’s attention. Interesting.

“I’ll have you know I’m like, super attractive, and out of your league.” Sapnap dramatically brushes his black bangs to the other side of his face. 

“Oh yeah, my bad.” Dream grows an evil grin at the spark of an idea.  _ Wonder how George will react to this, then. _ “Let’s kiss.” Dream says with the wave of a hand. The two keel over the table in cackles and wheezes as if it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.

Through squinted vision, Dream notices George put his head in his hands and lean over the table on his elbows, and though initially concerned, Dream quickly turns smug after seeing the twinge of frustration in his eyes. “What is it, George?” He pushes.

George huffs. “Ugh, nothing. Let’s just keep working.”

“Hm. Alright.” Dream smiles. 

Maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea to be pushing George like this after hearing a semi-confession from him, about liking him, or whatever. God, why did he have to use such vague wording?  _ Like  _ could mean so many different things. But even with that knowledge, it almost makes Dream want to test it to find out what George meant. 

Dream looks over at his new dark haired human friend.  _ Good day to have someone over so I can test this out. _

If George doesn’t react at all, then nothing changes. If he becomes jealous, well, that’s a lot of teasing material at Dream’s disposal. 

And that was a hell of a lot of motivation for him.

“How about we compromise,” Sapnap offers with the wave of a hand to the paper. “We’ll put it halfway.”

Dream refocuses his attention back on the carefully etched layout, and squints. “I  _ know  _ I’m right, but fine. Let’s put it there.” Dream reaches for the pen at the opposite end of the table by George, and receives a surprisingly harsh smack to his hand. “Hey, what the-!” Dream gasps angrily as he pulls his hand back, throwing an annoyed look at Sapnap, who’s failing miserably to cover up his snickering.

“I’m not letting you mess up my work.” George takes the feathered pen between his fingers as if it were the most precious item in all the world. He leans over the table with no consideration for Dream’s personal space, causing him to lean away in surprise as George begins lining out a body of water. “I’ll draw it, thanks.”

“Damn, pushy much.” Sapnap chuckles, probably in an attempt to lighten the tone from where George had left it. The ravenet kicks back in his chair with his boots resting on the table, away enough from the map to not be told off for it. “Ughhh, I’m beat. I don’t know how you do this all day.” Sapnap groans, and shuts his eyes.

“I like it.” George says lightly. “It feels nice to know where things are, to me that’s how it is. It makes me feel safer.”

“Yeah, I guess you’ll know better routes for running away n’ stuff.” Sapnap agrees. Dream looks over at him with a new sparked interest. Sapnap stretches his arms out to his sides dramatically, and lets them fall over the chair’s back. “I guess you’re not the one that’s running, though.”

Dream tilts his head in confusion. He looks over at George, who has a death glare set on Sapnap across the table. When he doesn’t hear a reply to his words, Sapnap opens his eyes to meet George’s brutal gaze, and laughs to himself. “ _ What?”  _ As if a switch had been flipped, Sapnap’s cocky grin drops in an instant and his eyes widen. Dream swears he sees George glance over at him. Sapnap clears his throat. “Oh, yeah. I mean the routes you make are safe. So. You won’t be running. The a-animals that hear you- they’d run. That’s right.” 

Dream looks between them both, the two obviously having a silent conversation that he wasn’t meant to hear.  _ What are they talking about? Does George have a vampire bounty on him or something? Does he get chased often? _

“Yup,” George deadpans. Dream considers maybe making a snide remark about being excluded from whatever the two were saying, but decides against it telling from how George probably still isn’t in the best mood. Dream might like to push him, but he’s not a complete asshole. He decides to try and lighten the mood. 

“So…where’s your favorite place to go, George? On this map, I mean.”

Thankfully, George takes the opportunity to change the topic just as eagerly. “Oh, I’m glad you asked.” George beams, and points to a mostly blank area of the page. “You already know about this spot, the one we went to when we- during our outing. The park.”

“I think he means date.” Sapnap whispers into Dream’s ear much too loudly for it to actually be unheard. George glares at him, and smacks Sapnap lightly on the arm when he stifles laughter. “Hey! Rude.”

“This other spot, though,” George ignores him. “This place is really nice, too.” George trails a finger down the paper closer to himself, and lands at a carefully detailed area, the individual trees more drawn out and water waves a little more detailed in the river drawn next to the tiny clearing. “There’s a natural waterfall, and flowers in the spring.” Dream looks up at George, who’s still focused on the map in front of him. His smile looks so relaxed. It was rare to see him so untroubled. 

“Sounds like a good spot for some  _ kissy-kissy _ action.” Sapnap chuckles, obviously knowing of the mood he was creating in the room. While George looks exasperated, Dream takes advantage of it.

“Oh, you’re so right, Sappy.” Dream drawls with a lean closer to him, George flinching up at the pet name. “You have such a good eye for pretty things.”

Sapnap is a little taken back at first, but quickly adjusts to fire right back. “Exactly, you’re soooo pretty, Dream.” Sapnap winks dramatically at him and tries to bite his lip, but starts smiling which causes him to lose the persona halfway through and puts a hand on the table to keep his balance through the laughter. “I can’t- I can’t do it, oh my god, I’m sorry.”

“So mean to me.” Dream mockingly pouts.

“Dream.” George’s dull tone breaks the laughter, and both boys look over at him curiously. “Can I have a word with you?” His words are devoid of emotion, they are simply spoken as the blond and brunet make eye contact. There was no clear emotion on his face, but that almost made it more concerning.

Sapnap straightens his posture immediately. “George, I- you know I’m just-“

“I know.” George says monotonously. He stands, and walks to his room without a second glance back, as if he knew Dream would follow him. To be fair, that’s exactly what he did.

Dream sends a look of “ _ I don’t know either”  _ to Sapnap as he pushes his chair back to follow, and meets George in his room with nonchalant steps. George doesn’t acknowledge him as he enters, and closes the door behind Dream before turning to face him directly.

“What are you  _ doing _ ?”   
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

George sighs lightly, letting go of his shoulders. “This,  _ this  _ is what makes me feel like you hate me.”   
Dream’s attitude quickly shifts. “What?”   
  
“Why do you keep flirting with Sapnap..?” George asks with a hint of hurt behind his voice. His head ducks a little away from him, and looks instead to the bookshelf on the wall.

Dream smirks.  _ Knew it. Jealousy.  _ “What? Flirting?” He says incredulously. Dream leans against the wall and casually analyzes his nails. “I’m just making conversation.”

George abruptly pokes a finger to Dream’s chest, causing the taller man to stagger a step back in surprise. “You know  _ exactly  _ what you’re doing.” George hisses. “I’m not having any of it. As much as you like to pretend that- that it all means nothing-”

“All of what?” Dream asks, unamused. 

“You might treat it all as a joke, but I think you  _ like  _ it. And you think by doing this you’re gonna get to me.” George smiles to himself as he speaks, leaning closer to Dream with each word. “You’re sick, you know that? You’re awful.”

Dream is stunned by the sudden anger in George’s tone. George didn’t seem to be one for confronting conflict, he always avoided talking about a problem through passive aggressive remarks or lightening jokes. This must’ve bothered him enough to surpass all that, then. Dream glares down at him. “Why don’t you just tell me to leave, then? C’mon, you  _ know  _ I deserve to be kicked out. Just say it already.”

George winces at Dream’s harsh wording. “I-I can’t do that.” 

“Why? Why not, George? You have every reason to!” Dream looms over him and places his hands on George’s shoulders firmly. “Just say it already!”

“I can’t!” George cries, and pushes Dream off of him. Before Dream can push back, the swelling frustration in his chest fizzles out at the sound of a quiet sniffle. “You’re- you’re all I have.”

_ Oh. _

“George-” Dream’s voice becomes soft in an instant, more genuine sounding than George had ever heard from him before. Regardless, he crosses his arms and refuses to meet Dream’s eyes. “George, I...I didn’t mean it like…” He reaches a hand out slowly, but George leans away. Dream frowns. “What do you mean...I’m all you have?”

“It doesn’t matter.” George strains.

“Did it really bother you that much..?”

Silence.

Dream exhales.  _ I’m not letting you hide away again.  _ “George,” Dream crouches down to meet at the others’ eye level, and slowly pulls his arms away from being crossed, holding his hands in both of his gently. George’s glassy, brown eyes hesitantly look up. 

“I’m sorry.” Dream says. “I’ve been a real dick to you.” There’s no irony, no joking tone, no sly grin on his face. For the first time, it feels like there’s no barrier between them. It wasn’t just Dream, a vampire, screwing around with a human for the fun of it. 

It’s just two people, two people having a real conversation.

Maybe that’s what George made him feel that was so unusual.

Normal. Understood.

George tries to blink some tears away, and smiles. “Yeah. You have been.”

The two laugh lightly, and Dream playfully pushes George’s shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Dream stands up straight again, keeping George’s hands in his own as a silent reassurance. “I’m serious, though. You have my full permission to yell at me if I’m ever acting awful.”

“I’d have lost my voice by now if I did that.” George rolls his eyes, the teariness in his eyes having completely disappeared now. It makes Dream smile.

“You wanna go finish your map, now? I promise I’ll do my best to help this time, even if I might spill ink all over the page.” 

“Sure, but don’t do that, please.” George giggles breathily.

“No promises.”

Dream places a hand on the small of George’s back and pushes the door open again, and begins to walk towards the kitchen to rejoin Sapnap. George stops again, though, and turns to face him. “Oh, actually, I have a book that has all my maps documented in them. It’s a small brown one on the top shelf, I think. Could you grab it and meet me at the table?”

Dream smiles. “Of course.” George smiles back warmly, thanking him with his eyes. He turns and returns to the kitchen, and Dream hears the two already bickering, already going at their fake hatred once more. 

Right, the book. 

Stepping back over to the shelf they were just standing by, Dream reaches up and traces a finger across the bindings of multiple novels on the top shelf, each one feeling rough, but sturdy with mostly leather covers. George did seem like the reader type, he supposed. Dream could easily picture him being enamored by world building and hundreds of pages of plot more interesting than his own life. Dream wonders if maybe he felt less of a need to read since he was around recently, and wondered if maybe he was interesting enough to keep his attention on the world he lives in. 

He likes to think so. 

_ Small and brown.  _ He thinks. His index finger stops at a shorter book in the array, and draws it out with a careful tilt. Holding it in both hands, he reads the cover’s title.  _ MAPS.  _ Simple, to the point. Very George. 

He sets a hand at the end of the book row, and pushes them all to one side to close the gap, preventing any of them from falling over later. But just as he does, his eye catches something unusual at the new opening.

_ Is that...a hole in the wall?  _

Strangely enough, behind where books once were, there’s a precise square opening in the wall, holding a single, small, brown book.

_ Wait… _

Dream looks at the book in his hand, confused.  _ George didn’t mean this one, right? _

He reaches a hand, and feels the cover of the book in the wall. It’s rough, but not like the others. It’s ragged. Used. The binding of the book was slightly torn, presumably from lots of wear and tear. He gently pulls it out and holds it up, eyes scanning the cover. 

There was no title on this one. It had bits of dirt marks on it, and many signs of being opened over and over again, almost harshly so. 

Dream looks between the two, back and forth.  _ Why did he have this one hidden? He didn’t mention anything about a hole in the wall. There’s no way he meant for me to find this one...right? _

Maybe it would be a good idea to put the book down and pretend like it never existed, but then again…

The thought of George hiding something from him was so intriguing. Would it reveal something that explains why Dream can’t just treat him like another human? Maybe a secret that explained how George is an angel sent from above to give him the miracle of genuine connection.  _ Something  _ to explain why George was such a fixation to him.

Dream stares at the book for a long, long while, and sighs.  _ Just one look. That’s all.  _

He sets the other book down on George’s bed, and delicately takes the first page between his fingers to flip it open.

Dream’s heart plummets the second the page’s contents registers to his brain.

Drawings of figures, of sharp teeth. Scribbles of random writings and notes out from them. Unless someone had upset a glass of water, some pages have tear marks on them. One drawn figure in particular, despite not being very well drawn, Dream recognizes by the height and hair. Technoblade. A vampire he’d only talked with twice (well, more like fought with over food). Other figures on the page he doesn’t recognize, but they all have one thing in common.

They all have fangs.

Sentence long notes are written next to each of them, all saying things along the lines of  _ ‘falls easily for bear traps’  _ or  _ ‘quick on their feet, can’t outrun’. _

Dream nearly drops the book to the floor with how much his hands become numb. His face feels as if all the color in it drains. His button-up shirt and loose black pants are suddenly too heavy on him, and it feels as if the air itself is trying to drag him to hell.

_ This can’t be right. _

_ Why wouldn’t George tell me about this? _

He flips another page, forgetting his initial promise to only look for a moment. There’s more. More figures, faces, bared teeth, paragraphs and paragraphs of weaknesses and reminders of how to best escape each one. He flips another page, this time shakily, and sees a full page of writing. His eyes skim it frantically, hoping to find something,  _ anything  _ that could prove that maybe this wasn’t George’s book, or that it was all some elaborate joke. 

Dream’s stomach drops at the sound of nearing footsteps from the hall, and hurriedly shoves the book back into where it was in the wall and picks up the one he originally meant to take to George, like he’d asked.

George arrives in the doorway, and casually places a hand in his pant pocket. “Hey, you found it yet? Or do you need my help?” George smiles slyly, seeming not to pick up on Dream’s heart which was currently slamming against his ribcage like a feral tiger in a cage. 

“O-Oh, yeah.” Dream forces himself to breathe in order to make a steady, clear sentence. “Found it. I’m coming.” He holds the book up hoping it was proof enough for George to leave. He silently pleads that George won’t see the messy way he’d shoved the books around on his shelf. Thankfully, if he did notice, he didn’t comment on it. 

George softens his expression, and Dream thanks God for his obliviousness. Or maybe for Dream’s insane luck. “Don’t take too long, idiot.” With that, George turns and heads back into the hall.

When he’s sure the footsteps are far off enough, Dream turns back to the shelf and grabs the book once more with shaky hands.

_ He really is going to be the end of me. _


	6. The Devil's Mask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY we took a fat break since this is a pretty long chapter lol. i apologize for the wait! updates probably won't be weekly from here on out since we want to make sure we're spending lots of time on each chapter to make it worth the read <3 tysm for supporting us!
> 
> Warnings for chapter 6: swearing, blood, animal hunting, self deprecation
> 
> enjoy :D

_ I have to hide this somewhere. I need to see all of it. I need to see how much danger I’m actually in. _

He places every other book where it had been before he’d moved them, and checks from every angle to be sure that the hole he’d found wasn’t visible. Through a strained, dry throat, he exhales with relief.

“ _ Fuck.”  _ He whispers to himself. There’s no time right now to think about everything, his only chance at getting out of all of this was to make it seem like everything was normal. 

He can do that, right? He can act like his normal, cocky self, as if he hadn’t just found George’s vampire-murdering plans for him later. 

_ Yeah. This is fine. _

The question now is, where does he put the book? He can’t just put it back where it was, there was no way George was going to sneak in while George was sleeping and risk being caught. And maybe killed.

Maybe in the living room…under the rug? Too obvious. Under the couch? Too visible. Between the cushions? That would probably make the most sense, that’s where he’d been sleeping, anyways. It’d be the easiest to access when he got a chance to look again.

Taking another deep breath, he walks into the hall with the book held out of sight behind his back, with the book of maps in his other hand to his side.

“There you are!” Sapnap groans with the raise of his arms. “I swear, you’re like an old man or something.”

“Yeah,” Dream winces at the pathetic croak still evident in his voice, and clears his throat. “Takes one to know one.”

Sapnap thankfully takes the playful jab like all the others, and turns back to nudge George some more, probably just to annoy him. Dream takes the chance to quickly step over to the couch, and shoves the journal deep into the space between the cushions, and makes sure it disappears completely behind the upholstery before shuffling back to join the two humans. 

The disturbing contents of the book never leave his mind as they work away at their maps. He tries to make sense of what he’d read.  _ So George kills vampires? _

He can only imagine George stabbing a silver blade into his neck, then dragging his dead body through the woods and off a cliff. The idea makes him feel sick, nausea swirling around uncomfortably in his stomach like paint in water.

He zones out, standing next to and towering over a seated George. 

“You okay?”   
“Huh-? Oh, yeah.” Dream stuttered. “I’m fine.”

George flashes him a small smile before turning back to the ink and paper. “If you say so.”

He swallows, uncomfortable. His brain buzzes with negative thoughts. 

It’s too much. He’s starving, the hollowing of his stomach begging for food to the point he fears it may be caving in on itself. The thought of his own kind causing George this amount of pain, the thought of George spending hours setting up traps to capture vampires and brutally murder them. It’s all too much. 

He’s worried for himself. He’s worried about George.

“I’ll be back.” He says, barely managing a steady voice. They both hum in acknowledgement, allowing him to slip away. He’s grateful they don’t choose to question him.

He stalks down the hall, pulling open a coat closet by the front door and digging through to find an umbrella. Once he does find one (it’s blue, of course), he steps out onto the porch, closing the creaky door behind him as quietly as he can manage. He struggles for a moment to open the umbrella, but eventually he’s able to pry it open to provide shade for himself once he steps off the porch.

He begins a slow walk through the woods, mapping out the familiar trails in his mind. Birds chirp deep in the forest, twigs snap beneath his feet, but all the sounds blend into his mind as he stares at the forest floor. 

_ Why does George hunt vampires? Maybe that’s why he was attacked by one the other day. I wonder if he killed them. Why wouldn’t he tell me? _

_ I’m so fucking hungry. _

He takes in a deep sigh, allowing the cool forest air to enter his lungs and wash them out. 

He follows a familiar cluster of trees to reach a river that breaks the forest.

He crouches under a tree that provides enough shade for him to lower the umbrella. He peers into the clear water, counting the pebbles at the bottom. He waits impatiently for a passing fish, rolling up his sleeves.

When one does, he thrusts his arm into the water and snatches it, pulling its slippery body from the water. 

He brings the creature up to his lips and bites the cold flesh, drawing out the blood beneath the skin. It’s not the best tasting, but it’s enough to calm the rumbling in his hollow stomach. Once he’s finished with one, he manages to catch another, which he also drains the blood of.

He drops both dead fish into the water, watching it cloud with their red blood, scaring the rest of the fish away in a dashing frenzy.

He looks into the water, aching to see his reflection. He wishes he could see the faint bags resting beneath his eyes, and blood dripped from his lips and smeared his freckled cheek, it was so annoying that he could never know if he looked human or not. 

Maybe it was better like this, though. Maybe he’d be horrified by the person he saw looking back at him.

Just like George would be.

He reaches a hand up to wipe away the cool blood, feeling it trickle down his chin.

He knows he can’t stay long before George and Sapnap will start to get suspicious, especially after leaving so abruptly like that, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting to stay here forever. He sits down and rests his legs, swinging them over the water on the rock ledge. _ I can’t realistically stay here for more than half an hour unless I want to end up with a bunch of questions being thrown at me. I don’t think I could lie very well right now. _

After a few minutes, his stomach feels like it’s calmed down. He’s not thriving by any means, but he’s happy to get some sort of salvation. His stomach feels less empty.

_ What the hell am I supposed to do? That’s what he thinks of my kind. That’s what he thinks of me.  _

The water ripples with deep reds at the surface, pooling outwards and being tossed in the slight current. Like always, the only leftover evidence of Dream being there is blood.

_ What is he going to do to me if he finds out? He’s not as naive as I thought, then. It was a mistake to go after him. God, he could’ve fucking killed me that first day if he knew. Would he have killed me on the spot if he knew? _

_ Of course he would. Vampires are nothing to humans. _

_ Just monsters. _

_ I’m a monster to him. _

Dream collapses into his hands, trying in vain to rub away the stress that must be evident on his face.

_ Why did it have to be him, of all people? Why did the one human I picked have to turn out to be a super intelligent vampire killing machine?  _

_ And why did I have to get attached to him? _

The rock is harsh under his fingers. Cold. Unforgiving.

Maybe George would make an exception for him? 

George’s saddened tone pangs again in Dream’s ears.  _ But you don’t like me, do you? _

_ Of course I like you. _

That’s what he told him.

Maybe in another world, where Dream wasn’t a vampire, they could have been friends. Or more.

Dream pries his eyes open and looks at his hands. His nails were already starting to grow out again, not quite claws yet, but it was enough to remind him that at any chance his body gets, it becomes vicious. He clenches his fist.

_ I thought I found someone that kind of understood me. At least a little. _

_ But you’re just another lie.  _

He abruptly stands with gritted teeth, and whirls around to slam his fist into a tree trunk behind him. It immediately cracks with splinters flying outwards, leaving a sizable hole where his fist was. He sighs as he pulls his hand out, grimacing at the harsh purpling bruise and scratches it left on his knuckles.

_ I really have to stop beating up trees when I’m angry. _

He plops down onto the rock again, and falls onto his back with a huff.

_ And here I am again, destroying other things because of my own issues. _

_ I guess that’s what I’ve been doing to George, too. Trying to kill him for my own satisfaction, to prove that I can be what I’m supposed to be. Hurting him to make myself feel better.  _

_ When he finds out what I am, there’s going to be nobody left to care about me. _

Dream blinks at the canopy of leaves above him with a sudden realization.  _ So maybe he never has to find out. _

Yes, that’s it. That’s all he has to do. Just keep filing his teeth every day, keep sneaking out every couple days to drink enough blood to get by, pretend that every time him and George are within 5 feet of each other he doesn’t have an innate urge to grab him by the shoulders and drink the life out of him. 

He’s done it for this long, how hard could forever be?

_ All I have to worry about is what’s in that journal. I need to know how much he knows about vampires. If I can avoid doing anything he’ll find suspicious, It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. _

_ That’s what I’ll do. I need to read the rest of that journal. _

But for now, the world seems a bit too fast to deal with. 

Dream lays in the grass until the sky goes dark.

Eventually he realizes how long he’s been out. He sighs and sits up, cracking his knuckles. He doesn’t want to leave, but he knows George and Sapnap are probably wondering where he went. In a moment’s notice, he’s on his feet and making the trek back to the house. With the sun setting in the sky, he doesn’t need a shade to protect him from its unforgiving rays.

\---- 

The front door shuts with a soft click. Sapnap chuckles. “What was that about?”

George looks up from the trail he was making with his pen. “You mean Dream? I dunno. He’s weird sometimes.”

“Well yeah, figured that much.” Sapnap says. “He just seemed bothered by something, I guess. But you know him better than I do, I trust your judgement.”

  
George briefly considers it.  _ But what would he be upset about?  _ “You’d be surprised,” He smiles back down as he draws another careful line. “He’s a man of mystery.” 

Dream’s words from earlier return to him.  _ “George,”  _ Dream had looked at him directly in his eyes. Though George’s vision was slightly blurry with tears, he remembers how shocked he was by the genuine look in them.  _ “I’m sorry. I’ve been a real dick to you.” _

Even after George thought he had Dream figured out, he was still surprised by him.  _ Didn’t think there was an ounce of genuine compassion in his body.  _ George snickers to himself.  _ Guess I was wrong. _

“Got that right,” Sapnap agrees. “Does he even have a house? He’s been hanging out here for days now! Not to mention you’re living room is a mess. I thought he’d at least have the decency to take you to bed.”

“He does!” George defends. “Wh- Wait, no! Sapnap! He’s just staying here for the time being. He sleeps in the living room..” 

Sapnap drops his pen in the middle of his laughter, lightly smacking the table. George blushes. 

“Seriously, though. It’s painfully obvious how into you he is.”

George squints up at him. “I dunno…”

“Dude, he flirted with me to make you jealous. He knows I’m straight as a plank. That’s as obvious as it gets.”

George sighs, and sets down his pen. “No, he’s just- that’s just what he does. He just teases me endlessly, I always feel like I’m getting mixed signals. He’s so annoying.”

“I think he’s giving you  _ mixed signals, _ ” Sapnap accentuates his words with quote marks using his hands. “Because you’re so stubborn all the time. Maybe he thinks you don’t like him back.”

George groans, and puts his face in his hands. “You think so?” He mumbles.

“Yes, I do.” Sapnap places a supporting hand on George’s shoulder, causing him to look up. “But all you have to do is show some encouragement back. If you’re so worried he doesn’t actually like you, then you can find out!”

“Are you telling me to flirt with him?” George deadpans.

“Precisely.” 

Deciding they were probably done with work for the day, and that their interest now was more on this conversation, George sets all the tools to the side and begins rolling up the map neatly. 

“Your definition of flirting is just making dick jokes and calling people hot. I’m not doing that.”

“Way to call me out, man. For the record, it works. But whatever, you don’t have to do it my way if you don’t want to. Just...show you’re interested, you know?”

“Yeah, but…” George huffs. “I guess we’re on weird ground right now. We kinda- he sort of slept in my room last night.”

Sapnap makes a noise between a choke and a laugh and meets George’s eyes with a wild expression. “He  _ what?!” _

“It wasn’t-”

“Did you, like- did you cuddle or anything?”

George flushes a deep scarlet as he tries to hide his face by looking away. “I…maybe?”

“ _ Dude,”  _ Sapnap smacks a hand on the table. “You’re kidding, right?”

“It was just- he looked, like- tired, or something. I don’t know! I don’t know what his deal was.”

“Oh, you’re right, I know what it was.”

“What?”

“It’s called  _ being head over heels for you and wanting to cuddle.” _

George scoffs. “That’s not true. He was probably just being weird again. He never  _ really  _ means it like that.”  _ God, how I wish he did mean it, though. _

“George, listen to me.” Sapnap’s tone turns genuine, and it catches George’s attention enough to make him look up to meet Sapnap’s eyes. “He may joke about flirting a lot, but it’s definitely not just a joke with you. I mean, sleeping in the same bed? Where’s the punchline to that?”

George goes quiet for a moment, staring blankly back.  _ He has a point.  _ “I...I guess you’re kind of right.”

“Exactly,” Sapnap smiles, and stands from his chair to grab his jacket from the coat rack. “So have more confidence in yourself, if he pushes, you push back, man! He’s practically asking for it at this point.”

Pulling his bag up onto the table with a light thump, George considers the advice.  _ Maybe it would be nice to see Dream on the receiving end for a change.  _ “I can’t believe I’m listening to you. You’ve been single for like, a century.”

“Not true! I’ve had like, so many girlfriends. More than you’ve had.”

George rolls his eyes. “What an accomplishment! It’s not like I’m gay or anything.” George chuckles as Sapnap swats him on the arm. 

“You better take my advice, man. You’ll never be able to live it down if you just let this chance go.”

George slips the map into the side pocket of his bag, and zips the top closed, just barely encasing all the tools and weapons inside.  _ He’s right. Who knows the next chance I’ll have for something like this. Not to mention, with someone like Dream. _

George sighs with resolve. “You’re right. I’ll go for it.”

\---- 

He closes the door behind him, safely inside the house. It’s quiet, Dream figures George already went to sleep.

“Dream?” A sleep-heavy, accented voice breaks the silence.

The man in question whips around to face the culprit. 

“You’re awake.” Dream huffs, after a moment.

“I am.” George says, tone unreadable. He’s sat down at the living room table by the entryway, with his arms on the table as if he had just been laying his head on them. Dream guessed that he was asleep before he came inside.

  
“Where’s Sapnap?” Dream briefly eyes the now dark kitchen and living room, noticing George seemed to be the only one here.   
“He went home. You were out for a while.”   
  
Dream breaks their eye contact, aiming his gaze at the ground in a guilty manner. “Sorry.”

  
George rubs an eye with his palm sleepily, and his brows furrow with concern. “Is everything okay?”

Dream swallows. “Yeah. Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

George sighs. “Okay, I’m heading off to bed. I just.. Wanted to make sure you were coming back.”    
  
_ Oh.  _ A foreign warmth blooms in Dream’s chest.  _ He really doesn’t know what I am, does he? _

“Thank you for checking on me. See you in the morning.”   
  
“See you.”

With that, the brunette leaves the room, trudging off to his bedroom. Once his door shuts, the house falls silent again, save for the chirping crickets outside.

Dream sighs, and walks over to where George was sitting when he’d walked in. He places a hand over where his arms had been rested, so delicately as if the memory would disappear if he was too quick. The wood of the table is still warm from where George was asleep.  _ He really waited for me to come back. _

_ I don’t deserve that much compassion. _

What had he ever done in his life to deserve someone like George? Dream was so abrasive, obnoxious, and just so intentionally jarring to anyone he met that he never minded when nobody would stick around. It wasn’t just about him being a vampire, no, other vampires made friends with each other. Even if they could be a little...aggressive compared to human friendships. Dream just made a point to not welcome others into his life where they could get too close. All people were stupid. Actually,  _ everyone  _ is stupid.

_ But George… _

Somehow, George put up with him for long enough. Thanks to this flirty, human persona he’d made for himself, Dream now considered George a friend. Someone actually worth being around.

It’s been a long,  _ long  _ time since anyone had ever come close to making him feel that way. 

Dream retracts his hand, almost missing the warmth from it as he wanders to the living room with the couch he’d been using every night now.  _ Well, most nights. _

The thought hits him like a brick to the head.  _ Holy shit, I slept in the same bed as someone who could kill me. And would, had he known what I am. _

Dream groans quietly to himself as he sinks into the couch corner with exhaustion - not from physical labor, but more so from emotional distress. 

_ If I had made a single slip up in all the time I was around him, I could have a stake through my chest right now. I can’t let him be suspicious. _

Dream sits up abruptly.  _ His journal. I left it in the cushions. _

He immediately digs his hands back into where he remembered putting it before he left, holding his breath until his fingers made contact with a leather surface.  _ Thank God, it’s still here. _

He immediately fumbles it into his hands and spins it around to see the front cover, loose threads sticking out from the left side where the pages are held together at the worn leather binding. It’s much more intimidating now that he knows what the journal contains - it isn’t exactly a happy occasion to read a book about all the different ways someone can kill you, let alone that person being literally in the next room. But, with a hold as steady as he can manage, Dream flips open to the first page again.  _ George, please don’t come out of your room right now. _

That same sensation from before, though not as jarring, is still painfully present as he sees the first pages. All the notes in George’s practiced straight-lined handwriting, with some off to the side that looked as if he maybe wrote it while running, it’s hard to not feel nauseous at some of the descriptions of vampire wounds and hunting tactics. As he flipped through, Dream recognized only 2 other vague figures drawn in them, though neither by name. He wasn’t the most social individual, even as a supernatural creature. Lots of socializing, as the way he sees it, is usually a waste of time and energy.

Most of the time.

His eyes fall upon a certain passage in inky black writing. He begins to read it, sitting down on the sofa and wrapping a quilt around his shoulders.

_ The first time I was attacked I was 17. _

Immediately, Dream’s interest peaks. He gives one last look at George’s closed door before continuing the passage.

_ Though many people might ask, “Didn’t it hurt? Weren’t you scared? Do you live in fear of vampires because of it?” _

_ People who think those kinds of questions have obviously never been attacked by a vampire. _

_ The truth is, it didn’t hurt, and I wasn’t scared. Or if I was, I didn’t notice. _

_ It felt like destiny had finally caught up with me. _

_ A son, not living up to carry on the family name of once-loving parents. A student at my small school with only 50 people, I was often told I was quiet, but funny when I wanted to be. People that would say things like that to me made my days a lot brighter. But it also reminded me that I didn’t add much value to other people’s lives. _

_ I’ve always been selfish, I know that now more than ever. Even when a bloodthirsty creature leaned over me, I thought that maybe it’d be the easiest path for my life. Maybe I could get out of dealing with so many things that I knew I would have to deal with if I continued to live my life as a man in Anderrige. Not that that by itself was a bad thing, just the fact that I was me. _

Dream’s eyes drift across the writing and come to the end of the first page, and realizes his breath is so shallow he can hardly feel his own heart beating.  _ I really shouldn’t be reading this. _ Dream looks up shamefully to George’s door, seeming almost more anxiety inducing than before.  _ I don’t have a right to know any of these things. _

_ … _

_ But. _

_ It’s for George’s happiness that I need to know. _

Dream swallows, and turns the page. This handwriting is a bit more lopsided, and there’s only text that reaches to half the page before becoming blank.

_ I wonder what that vampire is doing now. My subconscious blocked out a lot of that memory, I think, but I do remember a couple things. And the vividness of them never leaves. He looked even younger than me. But taller, as are most. But what I remember most is what I didn’t expect. _

_ He looked like he didn’t even know if he wanted to kill me. _

_ Even though he had just left a permanent gash in my shoulder, tearing muscle that still isn’t healed now, and had me pinned to the ground with his fangs bared. He hesitated. It hesitated. _

_ And I will never forgive it for that. For letting me get away and live with this. _

Dream blinks. Then narrows his eyes at the words, and reads them again.  _ Young. Taller. Hesitated. _

_ A gash in my shoulder. _

Dream lets a breath escape his throat, not knowing that he was straining himself. This couldn’t be real.

He reads the last line.

_ I will never let go of how angry that vampire boy still makes me. _

The journal drops out of his hands and onto the couch, and slides off the edge and onto the floor. Questions and emotions tear up his insides.

_ It's coming back to haunt me. I thought I was free.  _ Dream clenches his fists into the couch’s navy, tightly woven cushions, definitely straining the fabric.

_ It was him. _

_ George was the human I tried to attack when I was a kid. _

He closes the book, fingers feeling numb as he does. It feels surreal, but not in a good way. Definitely in the worst way possible. He shakily slips the book back into the cushions.

_ It was me. _ He swallows uncomfortably.  _ I did this to him _ .

_ How could I be deserving of his love after I’ve been so horrible to him? Not just then but now. I’ve seen him cry because of me. It’s my own fault he feels the need to hunt my kind. For good reason too. We all deserve this. _

His heart beats feverishly against his chest, the beckoning of a disturbing night’s sleep enticing him.  _ It’s too much to think about right now. Maybe when I wake up this will all be in my head. _

He doubts the possibility as he drifts off to sleep.

\---

He doesn’t get much sleep before he hears George’s door click open, stirring him awake.

He grumbles softly, something about closing the blinds, when George walks over. “Good morning.” He says, his tone surprisingly quiet.

Dream opens his eyes, rubbing them lightly. “I don’t want to wake up.” He mumbles, his mind immediately calmed by the sound of George’s voice. He’d become something comforting to Dream in the past few days.

“Well, we need to have breakfast. So wake up.”   
  
Dream sighs and sits up, noticing that all of the blankets he’d usually slept with (greedily, especially since he’s used to bitter wind), had been shoved off onto the floor already. He hears the clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen as George settles in the kitchen.

_ That’s weird. Why would I kick off all my blan- _

Dream’s heart stops in remembrance. He looks up at the brunette, who was currently buttering a pan. 

_ Oh, right. _

_ I’m the source of all of George’s pain and suffering. Great. Still no clue how to deal with that. _

“I know you don’t usually eat, but do you want any toast?” George offers with a look over his shoulder.

Dream flinches out of his thoughts. He definitely takes way too long to respond. “Oh, uh...y-yeah. Sure.” He answers, not really hearing what the question was. George seems satisfied, though, smiling and turning back to the pan to throw some bread on. 

The floor almost seems as if it’s moving under Dream as he stands and makes his way to his same chair that he’s grown used to without thinking about it. A lot happened at this table, Dream notes to himself humorlessly. 

_ It feels horrible to talk to him. I shouldn’t even be allowed to talk to him for what I did. He doesn’t even know. _

He watches George meticulously move around the kitchen, preparing the meal. His hair is still messy from bedhead. He’s smiling to himself a little, it’s bright enough to light up the room.  _ I’m horrible. _

“You sleep okay?”   
“Um, yeah.” Dream sighs. “It was fine.”

George sets a ceramic plate in front of him with a buttered slice of toast. 

_ Oh. _

“Do you want any jam or anything? I’m glad you’re eating, finally.” George says, offering a small smile.

“Ah, no, it’s okay. Thank you.”

Dream picks up the toast and takes a small bite, waiting till George turns away before gagging.

_ I don’t know why I keep trying. _

“Oh, oh my gosh, is it okay?” George turns, sporadic and with genuine concern that makes Dream sick. “I didn’t make it too crispy, did I? I-I know I’m not the best at making it but-”

“No, no,” Hands raise in assurance, and George calms. “I just- I think I’m a little sick. Or something. Maybe I shouldn’t eat.”  _ Sick is right. I’m sick in so many ways. _

“Oh,” George eases hand to reach for his plate. “Do you not want this then…?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

George smiles gently, and pulls the glass plate away with care, almost as if to make sure he heard the answer correctly. “If you say so.”

It hurt to see George be so concerned about him. Everything about this was wrong. It was wrong in so many ways, more than before, which Dream didn’t think was possible. If before was complicated, this was a puzzle with half of the pieces being broken. Is it even worth trying to put anything together at that point?

“Have you been sick for a while…?” George’s voice nudges into his fuzzy thoughts with a softness to it so that he sounds nervous for asking.

“Huh?”

“You… I don’t think I’ve actually seen you eat anything. If you haven’t felt well, you could’ve told me. It’s fine.”

A soft clink of a plate being left in the sink goes almost unnoticed when Dream struggles to come up with an answer. His throat gets a little more tense. “Uh- yeah. I was kinda embarrassed, but…” He swallows, avoiding George’s eyes so that he can’t see the lie in his own gaze. “I have a hard time eating a lot. Like- I mean, I dunno.” George looking directly at him was really not helping his nerves. “Most stuff doesn’t agree with me, I guess.”

A reflecting pause. “I’m sorry.”

_ No, I’m sorry.  _

“Eh, it’s alright.” Dream stands, avoiding that same window light that has begun to be really annoying every morning. “You don’t have to waste your stuff on me anymore, I guess. Just have more for yourself.”

George tilts his head, seeming to contemplate something before smiling curtly and responding in a slightly lower tone. “Nothing is a waste if it’s on you.”

Dream scoffs. Both out of surprise and discomfort. Fake flirting feels a lot worse when you know the person you’re flirting with was almost your dinner. “Yeah, yeah, you’re being dumb.”

George smiles smugly in victory. “Mhm.” He brushes past Dream with what almost seems like practiced ease. As the vampire turns to watch him walk to somewhere in the living room, he realizes something.

This hurt.

Holy shit, this felt so bad.

When did he start to care this much? Of course, guilt would be natural, he expected that. But…

It almost felt physically painful to keep something so big from George like this. That kind of remorse is something Dream didn’t think he’s ever experienced in his life. At least not enough for it to be a familiar feeling.

Maybe it was just the fact that he knew George on a level that he hasn’t known anyone else on. At least in a very long time.

_ The look in that human’s eyes when he knew he’d die. That I was going to end his life.  _ Dream feels his chest stiffen at the memory.  _ That was him. I did that to him. _

_ And now I’m lying to his face about it. And making things even worse than if I had left it alone. _

“So,” George’s voice intrudes like a beautiful, yet terrifyingly strong current as the brunet suddenly is in front of him again with both his hands behind his back. Dream lost track of when he’d walked back over to the kitchen island to be in front of him. “I thought we might be able to...do something today. Together.” George says with a smile that’s all too sweet and excited. He pulls a hand out from behind his back and reveals a thin novel with the most grimace-worthy romance cover featuring what appears to be a werewolf holding a blonde haired girl in a revealing red dress.

Dream can’t help but smile incredulously in both repulsion and hilarity. “The hell? What  _ is  _ that?” The smile feels very welcomed on his lips, and he allows himself to simply appreciate the stupidity of George sometimes, even if just for a moment.

“Okay, no, no listen! Listen- I was thinking we can make fun of it.”

“Where did you even get this?” Dream chuckles, taking the book in his hands and examining the cover more. It looked like something you’d find in a school girl’s bag. 

“Sapnap gave it to me.” George deadpans. “A birthday present _ ,  _ as he put it. Even though it was a month after my birthday.”

Dream squints at the girl on the cover, then back up at George. “But- wait, do you  _ like  _ books like this!?”

George waves his arms, clearly offended at the comment. “No! Oh my  _ god,  _ no. It was a joke gift.”

Dream couldn’t help his chuckle at that. It was very Sapnap-like to get a gift like this. “Why werewolves?” He asks, pointing to the other figure on the cover. 

“No clue.” George smiles fondly as he thinks. “I haven’t touched the book past the first page since I got it. But I saw it yesterday and thought that-”

“I’m not reading this.” Dream says.

“You’re right, I’m reading it to you.”

“No- ugh. George…”

“It’ll be fun! It will be, I swear.” George pulls the book back with a grin on his face. “I read the first part and it was already so  _ bad. _ It’ll be funny.”

Dream turns to the sink, and picks up his plate and turns the knob for the faucet and starts to clean it. He never cleans his dishes, but that didn’t matter. He needs to avoid talking too directly with George or he thinks he might explode if he makes eye contact with the dark eyes too much. He groans. “You’re seriously gonna force me to listen to that nonsense? What’s wrong with you?”

“Fine- one chapter.” 

Dream slows his hand on the scrub against the dish.  _ Maybe I can make up an excuse to leave after.  _

_ Maybe I can get away from him before I can’t stop myself from doing something stupid. All I have to do is make sure I keep my distance. _

“Fine.”

\---

Windows become dark with the fallen sun, lamps and candles lighting the couch, carpet, logged walls and skin with a familiar orange hue. 

“Laura cries out,  _ Oh, my love! How I’ve waited for this day! Our love is too strong to be kept apart by our differences!”  _ George reads melodramatically with annunciation in his hand gestures and fake tears. He’s seated on the other end of the couch from Dream, legs crossed on the cushion so that he’s facing directly towards the blond. Dream lays with his legs stretched out, almost reaching George’s feet, his head laying on the side with arms cushioning his right cheek. 

Dream was hardly listening when George started reading earlier that day, mostly only chuckling when a particularly bad line was emphasized by him in his best impression of an American accent. They read the first chapter in the kitchen, but to his surprise (and accomplishment), Dream had asked him to read one more chapter because the first one left on a cliffhanger. He used the same excuse for the next chapter. And then the next one. George took a lunch break, and Dream took a turn reading to him. And then they stopped making excuses. Now it was past sunset and they both sat on the couch, both engaged in their ability to spot horribly cheesy lines and unnecessary kissing scenes. 

“If by differences she means him being a literal animal, then sure.” Dream smiles lazily at his own joke, smile slightly offset by his face being smushed on its side. His voice drags with low sweetness. Whatever seemed to be bothering him earlier must’ve been healed by their joking together, at least for the time being.

George wasn’t dumb. He knew Dream wasn’t just  _ not feeling well.  _ There was definitely something personal, something deep that was seriously getting to him. And he made a point to never tell George what that thing is.

And call him selfish, or uncaring, but George was just fine with that. If Dream didn’t want to tell him about his life and be private, that was his choice. In fact, it almost made George feel more comfortable with keeping his own life secret as well. The thought of being seen as someone with no trauma, no baggage or issues, was quite appealing. He can be whoever he wants with Dream.

Sapnap’s words echo back to him.  _ You better take my advice, man. You’ll never be able to live it down if you just let this chance go. _

George looks over Dream’s beautiful features.  _ I’ll go for it. _ George had promised Sapnap that. He looks back down at the book, finding his line again after looking at Dream for what was definitely too long of a time to be unnoticed.

“The beautiful beast Laura has fallen for approaches, his abs highlighted by the moonlight.” George continues, catching the eye roll from the other side of the couch. “ _ I’m sorry, my dearest. I have kept you at bay for too long. I would fight the entire pack if it meant your safety.”  _

Dream huffs in amusement. “Dear God, if I have to hear one of them talk like a preacher at each other for one more second I think I’m gonna break something.”

“I know,” George groans. “You think they could’ve realized that they don’t sound like people at all. Well- except the guy, he’s in character.”

Dream raises a brow, and slowly asks, “Because he’s not human?”

George blinks up at him, meeting yellow eyes. “I guess. But also because guys are dumb.”

Dream laughs genuinely at that. George does, too.

There’s a silent moment between them as George watches Dream’s eyes trace around the room. 

_ I’ll go for it. _

“Good thing we’re both guys, then.” George says a bit lower than his usual tone.

Dream meets his eyes again, expression blank. George can see his Adam’s apple shift, but there’s no response. George can feel emotions climb up in his throat all at one - nerves, excitement, curiosity, they all begin to bubble over and mix into one.

“Are you dumb, Dream?” George smiles coyly.  _ You’ll see how it feels to be messed with, asshole. _

“No?” Dream smiles weakly, giving a confused look.

“Hmm,” All logic seems to leave, every ounce of restraint leaving George’s body as an opportunity rises. If Dream got to mess with him, he can do it, too. “I know I must be. For this, at least.”

Before Dream can question him, George uncrosses his legs and leans forward, hands on either side of Dream’s knees. Dream’s eyes widen. George can feel himself blushing at his own doing, but is able to compose himself under this persona he’s built, one without doubts or insecurities. The night outside consumes him, and takes hold of his will. He can do anything. “I don’t think I’ve told you,” George reaches to hold Dream’s freckled cheek, which the taller tenses at with reddening cheeks. “You’re very pretty, Dream.”

George revels in Dream’s expression that he can only describe as broken.

“Wh-” Dream tries, and swallows before trying again, leaning away a little as if to escape George’s intense gaze. “What…? I-” Dream’s mouth closes again, his eyes darting in every possible place except George’s eyes.

A sly grin plays at George’s lips, he leans in impossibly closer for just a moment. “You’re so easy.” He murmurs, minty breath falling dangerously close to Dream’s lips. He leans back, removing his arms from either side of Dream’s legs. The moment is over suddenly, leaving Dream a flushed and confused mess. George revels in it.  _ I did that.  _ He thinks.  _ I did that to him. _

George takes his time in admiring how disoriented Dream is while he struggles to collect himself, Dream only blushing harder at seeing George look at him so intently. George loves that he can be the one to laugh at him this time.

“Can’t handle a taste of your own medicine?” George says snidely.

“No…” Dream forces out. “I- I just...you’re so- ugh.”

“Spit it out.” George says with a knowing smirk. He’s going to take advantage of every second he has with Dream being like this.

“I…” Dream starts, clenching his fist then unclenching it, and sitting up suddenly. “You know what, no.”

George quirks his head to the side curiously. “No?”

Dream seems to resolve something in his head slowly, though the second his usual spark reappears in his eyes with a look up at George, he knows it’s over for him. “You want to know what you are, George?”

George raises a brow. “What’s that, Dream?”

“You’re  _ beautiful,”  _ Dream says, taking his turn to lean towards George. George parts his lips in surprise at the sudden turnaround, almost regretting how quickly he had pushed Dream a moment ago, because it clearly caused some sort of response in the blond. “And smart.” A larger hand reaches for George’s face, and George thinks he’s going to hold his cheek to mirror his previous action, but instead Dream grips his jaw gently, but also firmly so that he has no choice but to look at him. “And brave.” He leans closer. “And  _ incredible. _ ” Dream leans in more, towering over George while sitting up on his knees, George subconsciously had moved his arms to splay out to support the caged in position he was now in. George didn’t need a mirror to know he looked like a ripe tomato.

“Stop it.” George mutters.

“Why?” Dream challenges, holding his jaw just the slightest bit tighter, and smiling a small bit. It was the first smug expression he’d seen from the man all day, George realizes. “It’s the truth.”

George stares unblinking into Dream’s eyes. Whatever had just snapped in Dream, it wasn’t just out of spite. There was something else going on with him, but honestly, George didn’t have the energy, and certainly wasn’t in the mental state to address it. Their faces were too close, the unspoken rule of never moving beyond flirting hangs between them, a barrier between their lips as they are so tantalizingly close to just throwing it all away right here, right now, not caring about the consequences. George would do a lot to have no consequences. 

George slowly rests his hands on Dream’s chest, keeping eye contact with him as he speaks. “Your breath stinks.” George lies, hoping it’ll break the tension in the air enough to ease the awkwardness that would be sure to follow. 

Dream scoffs, and seems to ignore his fake complaint until George starts pushing at Dream’s chest. He looks down, and flushes with embarrassment at realizing that George really was trying to part. He eases off, careful to avoid George’s legs when settling back. Their eyes never leave each other, the silence carrying their private conversation between looks.

“That was too much.” Dream says, staring blankly at him.

“Yeah.” George agrees, but then smiles. “You always are, but I keep you around anyways.”

Dream chuckles awkwardly, thankful for the lighthearted response. “I know. Sorry.”

They sit in complete silence, and George glances at the window behind Dream and into the darkness only dimly lit by moonlight. Then he looks back to Dream, who’s picking at his fingernails, and though he’s good at hiding it, he’s obviously really tense about what just happened.

“Hey,” George prompts softly, and Dream looks up. “You wanna go look at the stars? I just remembered, I-I have a nice view from my roof. I have a ladder to get up.” George manages to get out. He hopes it doesn’t come across as too romance-inducing. Or maybe he does hope that.

Dream looks up, as if he could see the stars from inside. “Yeah?”

George stands, and walks over to beside his bedroom door, and reaches up to crank a ladder down. At the top of it, a wooden trap door awaits opening. He turns back to the blond, and smiles in an attempt to ease his nerves. “Yeah.”

\---

The two sit beside one another on the roof. George sighs, running a hand through his hair. Dream looks up, admiring the way the stars decorate the deep indigo sky, and how the clouds look as if they are the last bits of whipped cream on the surface of a coffee as it melts. The moon is bright, although not as bright as the mighty sun. Dream smiles a bit, the air feels fresh and clean from their elevated position. A faint fog rolls across the horizon. The roof tile under his fingers is smooth yet grainy. 

“Do you ever think about how the moon doesn’t change.” George suddenly says. It comes out timid, intimate. “Like, no matter where you are o-or who you are, the moon is always the same.” 

“Do you think about it?” Their questions are directed to the sky as they answer one another.

“All the time.” George whispers.

A comfortable silence washes over them. 

“Was your mask the moon?” George questions. 

Dream giggles lowly, he can’t help it. “The moon? No, no...unless…” He runs his fingers over George’s knuckles. “You want it to be.” 

George shuffles his legs closer to himself and smiles up at him through navy shadows. “You really don’t joke, do you? This is just...how you are, isn’t it?”

He purses his lips at the question. “What do you mean, _how I am,_ do you mean hot?”

George spits out a breath of air, making a sound between a laugh and a wince. “ _ God,  _ you shouldn’t say things like that, Dream.”

“Why not? Why does it matter to you?” 

“I know it shouldn’t, but-” George swallows. “You’re too much for me, sometimes.” He admits.

Dream turns, but tries not to make it obvious that he’s staring. He can’t help it, the dim glow of the moon makes George’s skin shine so brilliantly. 

“Is that bad?” Dream whispers.

George pauses. His corner of his mouth twitches upwards. “No.”

His favorite memories of George are ones where George doesn’t even know that he’s looking, and he’s still beautiful. How he looked at the stars, searching, hoping, reaching, it was so entrancing to watch him. So incredible to see his simplicity uncover something more. Something was there, behind his eyes, and Dream wanted to pull it out.

George turns to him, wetting his lips. “What?”

“Nothing.” Dream blushes.

“You’re staring.”   
“Am I?”

“Yes.” George smiles nervously. Their faces are close enough for George to count Dream’s freckles. George seems to notice, his eyes flicker down and then up again.

Dream leans forward slightly, bringing George’s focus back to his eyes. “Does it bother you?”

“No.” George answers without hesitation.

Dream parts his lips slightly, and breathes gently. George can feel it on his lips.

The pure impulse surging in Dream’s veins to take George’s blood could ignite dynamite, yet his desire to gently kiss him could make the most violent hurricane clear.

Flames spark in Dream’s chest, he places his index finger and thumb under George’s chin and slightly pulls it towards him. “That’s good.” His voice is a soft rumble.

George’s eyes are half lidded with flecks of starlight in them. The world disappears. He sees George. He sees George’s deep, rich blood. His body moves involuntarily as he leans closer.

Dream internally begins to tear apart as his mind crosses a scenario - one where he takes George’s mouth to his own and pushes him down to take the life out of him and drain every drop of blood without hesitation, and one where he kisses George carefully, he feels gentle lips against his own, and he has no impulse to hurt him and is rid of every horrible, monstrous impulse. Dream knew the second scenario was impossible, but he struggled to let it go regardless.

George hardly breathes as he mutters words to Dream’s lips. “Is this okay?”

Dream’s heart claws at its cage. “I think so.” He murmurs.  _ Fuck. Oh fuck. _

His heart is beating so loud he’s surprised George can’t hear it. His hand moves from George’s chin to rest gently against his cheek, beneath his jawline.

George’s eyes flutter closed. Dream’s soul catapults at an alarming rate. The flashes of potential blood spilling plague his brain all at once as George leans closer.

Fear jolts down Dream’s spine and causes him to abruptly pull back, his hand coming with. 

_ I can’t do it.  _

_ I don’t want to hurt him. _

George blinks. 

“Dream?”

Dream’s breath is ragged and shallow. “I..I’m going inside. It’s getting cold.” He says, voice wavering. He scrambles to stand, though tripping in the process, and shuffles to the door in a hurry.

George watches helplessly as he scrambles away, leaving him more breathless and confused than ever.

Dream shuts the door behind him, George doesn’t follow.

He presses his back against the wood and slides down, shirt riding up along his back.  _ I’ve messed it up. Fuck, I’ve messed it up. _

_ What the hell was that?  _

_ I can’t. I can’t do it. I can’t be that close to him, it’s too much. And now he’s probably sitting out there thinking I don’t want him. Especially after this whole day, I’ve been acting so fucking weird. Fuck, what am I meant to do? I can’t tell him I want to kiss him, because I can’t. I don’t think I could handle that. Could I? Has a vampire ever even tried to? _

He presses his face into his hands, rubbing at his eyes until he sees pools of color, making his vision blurry when he opens them again.

_ What the hell have I gotten myself into? _


End file.
